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THE   BERKELEYS 
AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS 


BY 

MOLLY   ELLIOT   SEAWELL 

AUTHOR    OF    THROCKMORTON,     MAID    MARIAN,    LITTLE  JARVIS, 
MIDSHIPMAN    PAULDING,    ETC. 


REVISED   EDITION 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 
1892 


COPYRIGHT,  1888, 
BY  M.  ELLIOT  SEAWELL. 

COPYRIGHT,  1892, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


PRINTED  AT  THE 
APPLETON  PRESS,  U.  S.  A. 


THE  BERKELEYS  AND  THEIR 
NEIGHBORS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A  PROVINCIAL  Virginia  race-course  is  an  excel 
lent  place  to  observe  a  people  which  has  preserved 
its  distinctiveness  as  well  as  the  Virginians.  So 
far,  they  have  escaped  that  general  and  fatiguing 
likeness  which  prevails  in  most  of  the  universe  these 
days. 

Therefore,  the  Campdown  race-course,  on  a 
golden  day  in  October,  looked  like  itself  and  noth 
ing  else.  The  track  had  started  out  with  the  in 
tention  of  making  a  perfect  ellipse,  but  meeting  a 
steep  incline,  it  saved  the  trouble  of  bringing  up 
the  grade,  by  boldly  avoiding  the  obstacle — so  the 
winning  post  was  considerably  nearer  the  half-mile 
than  the  starting  post  was.  Nobody  objected  to 
a  little  thing  like  this,  though.  The  Virginians  are 
good-natured  creatures,  and  seldom  bother  about 
trifles. 

It  was  the  fall  meeting  of  the  Campdown  Jockey 
Club — a  famous  institution  "  befo'  the  war." 

At  this  time  tfye  great  awakening  had  not  come 

i 

2061986 


2  THE   BERKELEYS 

— the  war  was  not  long  over.  For  these  people,  had 
they  but  known  it,  the  end  of  the  war  really  meant 
the  end  of  the  world — but  the  change  was  too  stu 
pendous  for  any  human  mind  to  grasp  all  at  once. 
There  came  a  period  of  shock  before  the  pain  was 
felt,  when  the  people,  groping  amid  the  ruins  of 
their  social  fabric,  patched  it  up  a  little  here  and  a 
little  there.  They  resumed  in  a  dazed  and  incom 
plete  way  their  old  amusements,  their  old  habits 
and  ways  of  life.  They  mortgaged  their  lands — all 
that  was  left  to  them — with  great  coolness  and  a 
superstitious  faith  in  the  future — Virginians  are 
prone  to  hanker  after  mortgages — and  spent  the 
money  untroubled  by  any  reflections  where  any 
more  was  to  come  from  when  that  was  gone. 

They  were  intense  pleasure  lovers.  In  that 
happy  afternoon  haze  in  which  they  had  lived  until 
the  storm  broke,  pleasure  was  the  chief  end  of  man. 
So  now,  the  whole  county  turned  out  to  see  two  or 
three  broken-down  hacks,  and  a  green  colt  or  two, 
race  for  the  mythical  stakes.  It  is  true,  a  green 
silk  bag,  embroidered  in  gold,  with  the  legend 
"$300"  hung  aloft  on  a  tall  pole,  for  the  sweep 
stakes,  but  it  did  not  contain  three  hundred  dollars, 
but  about  one-half  of  it  in  gold,  and  a  check  drawn 
by  the  president  of  the  Jockey  Club  against  the 
treasurer  for  the  balance.  Most  of  the  members 
had  not  paid  their  dues,  and  the  treasurer  didn't 
know  where  the  money  was  to  come  from,  nor  the 
president  either,  for  that  matter ;  but  it  takes  a 
good  deal  to  discount  a  Virginian's  faith  in  the 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  3 

future.  The  public,  too,  was  fully  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  affairs,  and  the  fact  that  there  was  any 
gold  at  all  in  the  bag,  would  eventually  be  in  the 
nature  of  a  pleasant  surprise. 

The  people,  in  carriages,  or  on  horseback,  bore 
little  resemblance  to  the  usual  country  gathering. 
They  were  gentlepeople  tinged  with  rusticity.  All 
of  them  had  good,  high  sounding  Anglo-Saxon 
names.  There  was  some  magnificence  of  an  an 
tique  pattern.  One  huge  family  ark  was  drawn 
by  four  sleek  old  horses,  with  a  venerable  black 
coachman  on  the  box,  and  inside  a  superb  old  lady 
with  a  black  veil  falling  over  her  white  hair.  There 
were  but  two  really  correct  equipages  in  the  field. 
One  was,  a  trim,  chocolate-colored  victoria,  with 
brown  horses  and  a  chocolate-colored  coachman  to 
match.  In  it  sat  a  showy  woman,  with  a  profusion 
of  dazzling  blonde  hair,  and  beside  her  was  an  im 
maculately  well  dressed  blonde  man.  The  turnout 
looked  like  a  finely  finished  photograph  among  a 
lot  of  dingy  old  family  portraits. 

The  other  carriage  that  would  have  passed  mus 
ter,  was  a  large  and  handsome  landau,  respectfully 
called  "the  Isleham  carriage"  and  in  it  sat  Colonel 
Berkeley  and  his  daughter  Olivia.  The  Colonel 
was  a  genuine  Virginia  colonel,  and  claimed  to  be 
the  last  man  in  the  State  to  wear  a  ruffled  shirt 
bosom.  A  billowy  expanse  of  thread  cambric  ruffles 
rushed  out  of  his  waistcoat ;  his  snow  white  hair  was 
carefully  combed  down  upon  his  coat  collar.  At 
the  carriage  door  stood  his  double — an  elderly  ne- 


4  THE   BERKELEYS 

gro  as  grizzled  as  his  master,  to  whom  he  bore  that 
curious  resemblance  that  comes  of  fifty  years  asso 
ciation.  This  resemblance  was  very  much  increased 
when  Colonel  Berkeley's  back  was  turned,  and  in  the 
privacy  of  the  kitchen,  Petrarch — or  more  commonly 
Pete — pished  and  pshawed  and  railed  and  swore  in 
the  colonel's  most  inimitable  manner.  Each,  too, 
possessed  a  type  of  aggressive  piety,  which  in 
Colonel  Berkeley  took  the  form  of  a  loud  declara 
tion  that  a  gentleman,  in  order  to  be  a  gentleman, 
must  be  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  This 
once  accomplished,  the  Colonel  was  willing  to  al 
low  liberally  for  the  weaknesses  of  human  nature, 
and  considered  too  great  strictness  of  behavior  as 
"deuced  ungentlemanlike,  begad."  Petrarch  re 
garded  himself  as  a  second  Isaiah  the  prophet,  and 
a  vessel  of  election — having  reached  the  stage  of 
perfectibility — a  usual  thing  in  the  experience  of  a 
genuine  African.  The  Colonel  described  Petrarch 
as  "  that  infernal  rascally  boy  of  mine,"  and  this 
"boy"  was  the  one  individual  he  had  never  been 
able  to  overawe  or  silence.  Possibly  an  exception 
might  be  made  to  this  in  Miss  Olivia,  who  sitting  up, 
slim  and  straight  and  pretty,  was  treated  by  her  fa 
ther  with  elaborate  old-fashioned  courtesy.  Colonel 
Berkeley  was  in  a  particularly  happy  and  virtuous 
frame  of  mind  on  this  day.  This  was  his  first  ap 
pearance  in  public  since  his  return  from  Europe, 
where  a  serious  bodily  injury  had  kept  him  during 
the  whole  four  years  of  the  war.  He  gloried  in 
the  consciousness  that  he  was  no  renegade,  but  had 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  5 

returned  to  the  sacred  soil  as  soon  as  he  possibly 
could,  when  he  might  have  been  enjoying  himself 
elsewhere.  When  the  Colonel  said  "  the  State  of 
Virginia,"  he  really  meant  the  whole  planetary  sys 
tem.  Nevertheless,  two  weeks  in  his  beloved  Vir 
ginia  had  bored  him  dreadfully,  and  he  was  "more 
orkarder,"  as  Petrarch  expressed  it,  than  any  other 
two  weeks  of  his  whole  life.  The  Campdown  races 
he  hailed  as  a  godsend.  He  had  a  good  compe 
tence  left,  in  spite  of  having  sent  orders  to  his 
agents  to  convert  lands,  stocks,  bonds,  and  every 
thing,  into  Confederate  securities — cotton  bonds, 
Confederate  gunboat  stock,  anything  in  which  the 
State  of  Virginia  was  bound  up.  As  far  as  in  him 
lay,  he  had  made  ducks  and  drakes  of  a  splendid 
fortune,  from  the  finest  and  most  disinterested  mo 
tives  that  ever  inspired  a  mistaken  old  gentleman, 
but  fate  had  befriended  him  against  his  will.  An 
investment  at  the  North  that  the  colonel  had  vainly 
tried  to  throw  in  the  general  wreck,  had  escaped 
confiscation,  and  had  increased,  a  hundredfold  in 
value.  His  orders  to  sell  half  of  Isleham,  his  fam 
ily  place,  for  Confederate  money,  had  arrived  too 
late  for  his  agent  to  carry  it  out.  He  had  done  the 
handsome  thing,  as  it  was  esteemed,  and  after  hav 
ing  practiced  the  strictest  virtue,  he  was  rewarded 
with  all  the  pleasures  that  are  commonly  supposed 
to  be  the  reward  of  vice. 

"  Don't  you  think,  papa,"  the  young  girl  said  to 
him  at  once,  "  that  we  should  go  up  on  the  grand 
stand  ?  It  might  look  a  little — a  little  stand- 


6  THE   BERKELEYS 

offish  for  us  to  remain  here — and  the  county 
people — 

The  Virginians  inherit  from  their  English  ances 
try,  avast  and  preposterous  respect  for  their  county 
people — and  Miss  Olivia  Berkeley,  fresh  from  Paris 
and  London,  was  more  anxious  that  no  fault  should 
be  found  with  her  by  these  out-of-the-way  pro 
vincials  than  any  of  the  fine  people  she  had  met 
during  a  considerable  transatlantic  experience.  So 
was  Colonel  Berkeley — but  there  was  a  fly  in  his 
ointment. 

"  I  would  with  pleasure,  my  love,  but  damme  if 
those  Hibbses  are  not  sitting  up  on  the  stand 
along  with  their  betters — and  I  won't  rub  elbows 
with  the  Hibbses.  It's  everywhere  the  same. 
Society  is  so  infernally  mixed  now  that  I  am  always 
expecting  to  meet  my  tailor  at  dinner.  I  thought 
certainly,  in  old  Virginia,  the  people  would  know 
how  to  keep  the  canaille  in  their  places,  and  there, 
by  George,  sits  a  family  like  the  Hibbses  staring 
me  in  the  face." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Olivia,  smiling.  "  It's  everywhere 
the  same — you  are  bound  to  meet  some  of  the 
Hibbses  everywhere  in  the  world — so  we  might  as 
well  do  the  right  thing  in  spite  of  them.  Petrarch, 
open  the  carriage  door." 

The  Colonel,  with  old-fashioned  gallantry,  assisted 
his  daughter  to  alight,  and  giving  her  his  arm,  they 
crossed  the  track  in  full  view  of  the  grand  stand, 
and  went  up  the  rickety  wooden  stairs  at  the  end. 

At  no  period  in  her  life  had  Olivia  Berkeley  felt 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  7 

herself  so  thoroughly  on  exhibition  as  then.  Her 
figure,  her  air — both  of  which  were  singularly  grace 
ful  and  refined — her  gown  which  was  Paris-made — 
all  were  minutely  examined  by  hundreds  of  eyes 
that  had  not  seen  her  since,  as  a  pretty,  half-grown 
girl,  she  went  to  church  and  paid  visits  under  the 
charge  of  a  demure  governess.  After  they  had 
crossed  the  white  track,  they  were  greeted  by 
numerous  gentlemen  who  sauntered  back  and  forth 
about  the  quarter-stretch.  Colonel  Berkeley  was 
elaborately  gracious,  and  Olivia  was  by  nature 
affable — to  all  except  the  Hibbses.  But  when 
they  passed  that  inoffending  family,  the  Colonel 
stalked  on  pointedly  oblivious,  and  Olivia's  slight 
bow  was  not  warming  or  cheering. 

People  moved  up  to  shake  hands  with  them — 
girls  of  Olivia's  age,  soft  voiced,  matronly  women, 
elderly  men,  a  little  shaky  and  broken,  as  all  the  old 
men  looked  after  the  war — -and  young  men  with 
something  of  the  camp  hanging  to  them  still. 
Olivia  was  all  grace,  kindness,  and  tact.  She  had 
forgotten  nobody. 

Meanwhile  Petrarch,  who  had  followed  them, 
managed  to  edge  up  to  her  and  whisper : 

"  Miss  '  Livy,  ain't  dat  ar  Marse  French  Pem 
broke  an'  he  b'rer  Miles  ?  Look  a-yander  by  de 
aige  o'  de  bench." 

Olivia  glanced  that  way,  and  a  slight  wave  of 
color  swept  over  her  face — and  at  that  moment 
"  Marse  French's  b'rer  Miles  "  turned  his  full  face 
toward  her. 


8  THE   BERKELEYS 

He  was  a  mere  lad,  of  eighteen  at  the  utmost. 
One  side  of  his  face,  as  she  had  first  seen  his  profile, 
was  of  the  purest  Greek  beauty.  But  on  the  other 
side,  a  shot  had  done  dreadful  work.  One  eye  was 
drawn  out  of  place.  A  horrid  gash  in  the  cheek 
remained,  and  one  side  of  the  mouth  was  pain 
fully  disfigured.  On  the  same  side,  an  arm  was 
missing. 

A  torrent  of  pity  almost  overwhelmed  Olivia  as 
she  looked  at  the  boy — her  little  playmate  in  years 
gone  by.  And  then  the  elder  brother  caught  her 
eye,  and  bowed  and  smiled.  He  did  not  possess 
the  beauty  that  had  once  belonged  to  Miles.  He 
was  dark  and  tanned,  and  his  features  had  a  manly 
irregularity.  But  he  stood  up  straight  and  tall,  and 
had  the  figure  of  a  soldier.  In  a  moment  or  two 
Olivia  was  shaking  hands  with  Miles,  looking  straight 
and  boldly  into  his  face,  as  if  there  was  nothing 
remarkable  there.  But  just  as  she  touched  French 
Pembroke's  hand,  the  blonde  woman  in  the  victoria 
came  within  her  line  of  vision. 

Olivia  threw  up  her  head,  and  greeted  Pembroke 
with  a  kind  of  chilling  sweetness.  But  this  all  dis 
solved  toward  Miles. 

"  How  delightful  to  see  you  again,"  she  said.  "  I 
suppose  I  shall  have  to  say  Mr.  Miles  now,  although 
I  never  can  think  of  you  as  anything  but  a  dear  lit 
tle  tormenting  boy." 

The  ghost  of  a  smile — his  smile  was  a  mere  con 
tortion — came  into  Miles'  face — and  while  he  talked, 
he  thrust  his  one  hand  into  his  trousers  pocket 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  9 

with  a  gesture  of  boyish  shyness.  Olivia  thought 
she  heard  the  tell-tale  rattle  of  marbles  in  the 
pocket. 

"  I've — I've  been  a  soldier  since  I  saw  you,"  he 
said,  with  a  boy's  mixture  of  pride  and  diffidence. 

"  So  I  hear,"  answered  Olivia,  with  a  pretty  air  of 
severity,  "  ran  away  from  school,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miles,  his  diffidence  disappearing 
before  his  pride.  "  I  was  big  enough  to  carry  a 
musket.  Though  I  wasn't  but  sixteen,  I  was  taller 
than  the  captain  of  my  company.  Soldiering  was 
fun  until — until — ."  He  began  to  blush  furiously, 
but  kept  on  after  a  moment.  "  I  didn't  mind  sleep 
ing  in  the  mud,  or  anything.  A  man  oughtn't  to 
mind  that  sort  of  thing,  Olivia — if  you'll  let  me  call 
you  Olivia." 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  replied  Olivia  gayly.  "  Do 
you  think  I  want  to  appear  any  older  than  I  am  ?  " 
Then  she  turned  to  Pembroke  and  said,  "  I  was 
sorry  not  to  have  seen  you  the  day  you  came  to 
Isleham.  We  met  last  in  Paris." 

"  I  hope  to  see  as  much  of  Isleham  as  we  did  in 
the  old  days,"  answered  Pembroke.  His  voice  was 
rather  remarkable,  it  was  so  clear  and  well  modu 
lated. 

"  I  hope,"  began  Miles,  stammering  a  little,  "  that 
— that  you  and  the  Colonel  understood  my  not — 
why  I  didn't  come  to  see  you  in  Paris." 

"  Not  fully,"  answered  Olivia,  pleasantly.  "  You 
must  come  over  to  Isleham  and  explain  it — if  you 
can.  Have  you  seen  papa  yet  ?  " 


10  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  I  see  him  now,"  said  Pembroke  with  a  smile, 
"  shaking  hands  with  Mrs.  Peyton." 

Olivia  smiled  too.  There  had  been  a  flirtation 
between  Mrs.  Peyton  and  Colonel  Berkeley  forty 
odd  years  before,  and  as  everything  that  happened 
in  the  community  was  perfectly  well  known  by 
everybody  else,  the  episode  had  crystallized  into  a 
tradition.  Colonel  Berkeley  had  been  known  to 
swear  that  Sally  Peyton  in  her  youth  was  a  jilt. 
Mrs.  Peyton  always  said  that  Tom  Berkeley  was  not 
to  be  depended  on.  The  Colonel  was  saying  to 
Mrs.  Peyton  in  his  grandest  tones : 

"  Madam,  Time  has  passed  you  by." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Colonel,"  responded  Mrs.  Peyton 
with  a  quizzical  look  at  Colonel  Berkeley's  elabo 
rate  toilet  and  flamboyant  shirt  ruffles,  "  we  can't 
cross  the  dead  line  of  sixty  without  showing  it. 
Even  art  cannot  conceal  it." 

"  Just  like  Sally  Peyton's  sharp  tongue,"  the 
colonel  growled  sotto  voce — while  a  suppressed 
guffaw  from  Pete  on  the  verge  of  the  group,  showed 
the  remark  was  not  lost  on  that  factotum. 

"And  Petrarch  too,"  cried  Mrs.  Peyton  in  her 
fine,  jovial  old  voice,  holding  out  her  hand. 

Pete  shuffled  up  and  took  her  hand  in  his  black 
paw. 

"  Howdy,  Miss  Sally.  Lordy,  marster  done  tole 
de  truf — you  looks  jes  ez  young  an'  chipper — How's 
Mandy?" 

"  Mandy  has  lost  her  senses  since  old  Abe 
Lincoln  made  you  all  free.  She's  left  me  and 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  II 

gone  to  Richmond  to  go  to  school — the  old 
idiot." 

"  Hi !  I  allers  did  like  Mandy,  but  I  ain't  got  no 
use  fer  dem  niggers  dat  kin  read  'n  write.  Readin' 
an'  writin'  is  fer  white  folks." 

"  Shut  up,  you  black  rascal,"  roared  the  Colonel, 
nevertheless  highly  delighted.  "  Madam,  may  I 
present  my  daughter — Olivia,  my  child." 

Olivia  came  up,  and  Mrs.  Peyton  kissed  her 
affectionately,  but  not  before  a  rapid  glance  which 
took  in  all  there  was  of  her. 

"  Like  her  sainted  mother,"  began  the  Colonel, 
dramatically. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  briskly  answered  Mrs.  Peyton.  "  A 
Berkeley  all  over,  if  ever  I  saw  one.  Child,  I  hope 
you  are  as  nice  as  you  are  pretty." 

"  Nobody  ever  told  me  I  wasn't  nice,"  responded 
Olivia  with  a  smile. 

"And  not  spoiled  by  your  foreign  travels?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

Clang  !  Clang!  Clang  !  goes  the  saddling  bell. 

"What  do  you  think?"  says  Olivia  laughing. 
"  Papa  has  entered  Dashaway.  You  know  he  is 
twelve  years  old,  and  as  Petrarch  says,  he  hasn't 
any  wind  left — but  papa  wouldn't  listen  to  any 
body." 

"  Yes,  that's  Tom  Berkeley  all  over.  Ah,  my 
dear,  I  could  tell  you  something  that  happened 
forty-two  years  ago,  in  which  I  promise  you,  I  got 
the  better  of  your  father." 

The  horses  by  this  time  are  coming  out.     They 


12  THE   BERKELEYS 

are  an  ordinary  looking  lot  except  one  spanking 
roan,  the  property  of  the  despised  Hibbses,  and 
Dashaway,  a  gray  thoroughbred,  a  good  deal  like 
Colonel  Berkeley  himself,  but  like  him,  with  certain 
physical  defects.  The  gray  has  a  terrific  wheeze, 
and  the  hair  on  his  fetlocks  is  perfectly  white.  But 
he  holds  his  head  up  gallantly,  and  gives  a  tre 
mendous  snort  which  nearly  shakes  the  mite  of  a 
darkey  off  his  back.  All  the  jockeys  are  negro 
boys.  There  is  no  pool-selling,  but  the  gentlemen 
make  bets  among  themselves  and  with  the  ladies. 
The  transactions  if  small,  are  exciting. 

Colonel  Berkeley's  presence  hardly  prevents  a 
laugh  as  the  gray  ambles  past  the  grand  stand,  snort 
ing  and  blowing  like  a  porpoise.  The  Colonel,  how 
ever,  has  unshaken  confidence  in  Dashaway.  Is  he 
not  of  the  best  blood  of  Sir  Henry,  and  didn't  he  win 
fourteen  hundred  dollars  for  the  Colonel  on  the  Camp- 
down  course  the  year  before  the  war?  Colonel 
Berkeley  knows  a  horse  well  enough — but  to  know 
horses  and  to  know  one's  own  horse  are  two  things. 

Colonel  Berkeley,  leaning  over  the  fence,  is  giving 
his  directions,  in  a  loud  voice,  to  the  little  darkey, 
who  is  nearly  ashy  with  fright.  He  knows  what  is 
expected  of  him,  and  he  knows  Dashaway's  defi 
ciencies.  ^ 

"  Now,  sir,  you  are  to  make  the  running  from  the 
half-mile  post.  Keep  well  up  with  the  horse  in  the 
lead,  but  don't  attempt  to  pass  him  until  you  have 
turned  the  half-mile." 

"  Yes,  sah,"  answers  the  small  jockey,  trembling. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  13 

"  But  Dashaway,  he  c'yarn  run  much,  sah,  'thout 
blowin',  an' — an' — " 

"  Zounds,  sirrah,  do  you  mean  to  instruct  me 
about  my  own  horse  ?  Now  listen  you  young  imp. 
Use  the  whip  moderately,  Dashaway  comes  of 
stock  that  won't  stand  whip  and  spur.  If  he  runs 
away,  just  give  him  his  head,  and  if  you  don't 
remember  every  word  I  tell  you,  by  the  Lord 
Harry,  I'll  make  you  dance  by  the  time  you  are 
out  of  the  saddle  !  " 

"  Good  Gord  A'mighty,  marster,"  puts  in  Pe 
trarch.  "  Dashaway,  he  ain'  never  gwi'  run  away. 
He  too  ole,  an'  he  ain't  strong  'nuff— 

"  Good  Gad,  sir,  was  ever  a  man  so  tormented 
by  such  a  set  of  black  rascals  ?  Hold  your  tongue 
— don't  let  me  hear  another  word  from  you,  not 
another  word,  sir." 

The  jockey,  who  takes  the  Colonel's  words  at 
their  full  value,  which  Petrarch  discounts  liberally, 
begins  to  stutter  with  fright. 

"  M — m — marster,  ef  I  jes'  kin  git  Dashaway 
'long  wid  de  res' — " 

"  Silence,  sir,"  shouts  the  Colonel,  "  and  remem 
ber  every  word  I  tell  you,  or '  Colonel  Berke 
ley's  appalling  countenance  and  uplifted  cane  com 
plete  the  rest. 

Dashaway  is  not  only  conspicuously  the  worst  of 
the  lot,  but  the  most  troublesome.  Half  a  dozen 
good  starts  might  be  made  but  for  Dashaway.  At 
last  the  flag  drops.  "  Go  !  "  yells  the  starter,  and 
the  horses  are  off.  Dashaway  takes  his  place 


14  THE  BERKELEYS 

promptly  in  the  rear,  and  daylight  steadily  widens 
between  him  and  the  last  horse.  As  the  field 
comes  thundering  down  the  homestretch  the  spank 
ing  roan  well  in  the  lead,  Dashaway  is  at  least  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  behind,  blowing  like  a  whale,  and 
the  jockey  is  whipping  furiously,  his  arm  flying 
around  like  a  windmill.  The  Colonel  is  fairly  danc 
ing  with  rage. 

Colonel  Berkeley  is  not  the  man  to  lose  a  race 
to  the  Hibbses  with  composure,  and  Petrarch's 
condolences,  reminiscences,  prophecies  and  deduc 
tions  were  not  of  a  consolatory  character. 

"  Ole  Marse,  I  done  tole  you,  Dashaway  warn't 
fitten  ter  run,  at  de  very  startment.  He  been  a 
mighty  good  horse,  but  he  c'yarn  snuffle  de  battle 
fum  befo',  an'  say  Hay  !  hay  !  like  de  horse  in  de 
Bible  no  mo'." 

"  Shut  up,  sir — shut  up.  Religion  and  horse  rac 
ing  don't  mix,"  roars  the  Colonel. 

"  Naw  suh,  dey  doan !  When  de  horse  racin' 
folks  is  burnin'  in  de  lake  full  er  brimstone  an'  sul 
phur,  de  'ligious  folks  will  be  rastlin'  wid  de  golden 
harps —  Petrarch's  sermon  is  cut  ruthlessly  short 
by  Colonel  Berkerley  suddenly  catching  sight  of 
the  unfortunate  jockey  in  a  vain  attempt  to  get 
out  of  the  way.  But  his  day  of  reckoning  had 
come.  Petrarch  had  collared  him,  and  the  Colonel 
proceeded  to  give  him  what  he  called  a  dressing- 
down,  liberally  punctuated  with  flourishes  of  a  bam 
boo  cane. 

"  Didn't   I  tell    you,"    he   was    shouting   to  the 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  !$ 

unhappy   youngster,    "  to    make    the    running — to 
make  the  running,  hay  f  " 

"  M — m — marster,  I  'clar  to  Gord,  I  thot'  Dash- 
away  wuz  gw'in'  to  drap  'fo  I  git  him  to  de  half- 
mile  pos'— 

"  Drap — you  scoundrel,  drap  !  The  blood  of 
Sir  Henry  drap  !  You  confounded  rascal,  you 
pulled  that  horse,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Mrs.  Peyton  laughed.  "  It  does  my  heart  good 
to  hear  Tom  Berkeley  raging  like  that.  It  reminds 
me  that  we  are  not  all  dead  or  changed,  as  it  seems 
to  me  sometimes.  Your  father  and  I  have  had  pas- 
sages-at-arms  in  my  time,  I  can  tell  you,  Olivia." 

Clang  !  presently  again.  It  is  the  saddling  bell 
once  more.  But  there  is  no  Dashaway  in  this  race. 
Nevertheless  it  is  very  exciting.  There  are  half  a 
dozen  horses,  and  after  the  start  is  made  it  looks  to 
be  anybody's  race.  Even  as  they  come  pounding 
down  the  straight  sweep  of  the  last  two  furlongs,  it 
would  be  hard  to  pick  out  the  probable  winner. 
The  people  on  the  grand  stand  have  gone  wild — 
they  are  shouting  names,  the  men  waving  their 
hats,  the  women  standing  up  on  benches  to  see 
as  two  or  three  horses  gradually  draw  away  from 
the  others,  and  a  desperate  struggle  is  promised 
within  the  last  thirty  lengths.  And  just  at  this 
moment,  when  everybody's  attention  is  fixed  on 
the  incoming  horses,  French  Pembroke  has  slipped 
across  the  track  and  is  speaking  to  the  blonde 
woman  in  the  victoria.  His  face  does  not  look 
pleasant.  He  has  chosen  this  moment,  when  all 


l6  THE  BERKELEYS 

attention  is  fixed  on  something  else  to  speak  to  her, 
so  that  it  will  not  be  observed — and  although  he 
adopts  the  subterfuge,  he  despises  it.  Nor  does  the 
blonde  woman  fail  to  see  through  it.  She  does  not 
relish  being  spoken  to  on  the  sly  as  it  were. 
Nothing,  however,  disturbs  the  cheerful  urbanity 
of  the  gentleman  by  her  side.  He  gets  out  of  the 
carriage  and  grasps  Pembroke  by  the  hand.  He 
calls  him  "  mon  cher "  a  vulgar  mode  of  address 
which  Pembroke  resents  with  a  curt  "  Good-morn 
ing,  Mr.  Ahlberg,"  and  then  he  lifts  his  hat  to  the 
lady  whom  he  calls  Madame  Koller.  "  Why  did 
you  not  come  before?  "  she  asks,  "you  might  have 
known  it  would  be  dull  enough." 

"  Don't  you  know  everybody  here  ?  " 
"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Madame  Koller,  sighing  pro 
foundly.  "  I  remember  all  of  them — and  most  of 
the  men  have  called.  Some  of  them  are  so  strange. 
They  stay  all  day  when  they  come.  And  such 
queer  carriages." 

"  And  the  costumes.     The  costumes  !  "  adds  Mr. 
Ahlberg  on  the  ground. 

Pembroke  felt  a  sense  of  helpless  indignation. 
He  answered  Mr.  Ahlberg  by  turning  his  back,  and 
completely  ignoring  that  excessively  stylish  person. 
"  You  must  remember  the  four  years'  harrowing 
they  have  been  through,"  he  says  to  Madame 
Koller.  "  But  they  are  so  thoroughly  established 
in  their  own  esteem,"  he  adds  with  a  little  malice, 
"  that  they  are  indifferent  even  to  the  disapproval 
of  Madame  Koller.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  I/ 

so  well.  I  must,  however,  leave  you  now,  as  I  am 
one  of  the  managers,  and  must  look  after  the  weigh 
ing." 

"  Now  you  are  going  away  because  I  have  been 
disagreeable,"  remarked  Madame  Roller  reproach 
fully.  "  And  poor  Ahlberg-— 

"  Must  take  care  of  you,  and  do  his  best  to  amuse 
you,"  answered  Pembroke  with  a  laugh  and  a  look 
that  classed  Ahlberg  with  Madame's  poodle  or  her 
parrot.  "  Good-bye,"  and  in  a  minute  he  was 
gone.  Madame  Koller  looked  sulky.  Mr.  Ahl- 
berg's  good  humor  and  composure  were  perfectly 
unruffled. 

Hardly  any  one  noticed  Pembroke's  little  expedi 
tion  except  Mrs.  Peyton  and  Olivia  Berkeley.  Mrs. 
Peyton  mounted  a  pair  of  large  gold  spectacles,  and 
then  remarked  to  Olivia: 

"  My  dear,  there's  French  Pembroke  talking  to 
my  niece,  Eliza  Peyton—"  Mrs.  Peyton  was  a  Pey 
ton  before  she  married  one — "  Madame  Elise 
Koller  she  now  calls  herself." 

"  Yes,  I  see." 

"  I  suppose  you  saw  a  good  deal  of  her  in  Paris, 
and  my  sister-in-law,  Sarah  Scaife  that  was — now 
Madame  Schmidt.  She  showed  me  the  dear 
departed's  picture  the  other  day — a  horrid  little 
wretch  he  looked,  while  my  brother,  Edmund  Pey 
ton,  was  the  handsomest  young  man  in  the  county." 

"  We  saw  Madame  Koller  quite  often,"  said 
Olivia.  Mrs.  Peyton  was  amazingly  clever  as  a 
mind  reader,  and  saw  in  a  moment  there  was  no 


1 8  THE  BERKELEYS 

love  lost  between  Olivia  Berkeley  and  Madame 
Roller. 

"  And  that  Mr.  Ahlberg.  Sarah  Scaife  says  he  is 
a  cousin  of  Eliza's — I  mean  Elise's — husband." 

"  I  should  think  if  anybody  knew  the  facts  in 
the  case  it  would  be  Sarah  Scaife,  as  you  call  her," 
replied  Olivia  laughing.  "  I  believe  he  is  a  very 
harmless  kind  of  a  man." 

At  that  Mrs.  Peyton  took  off  her  spectacles  and 
looked  at  Olivia  keenly. 

"  I  hate  to  believe  you  are  a  goose,"  she  said, 
good-naturedly  ;  "  but  you  must  be  very  innocent. 
Harmless !  That  is  the  very  thing  that  man  is 
not." 

"  So  papa  says,  but  I  think  it  comes  from  Mr. 
Ahlberg  eating  asparagus  with  his  fingers  and  not 
knowing  how  to  play  whist,  or  something  of  the 
kind.  I  have  seen  him  on  and  off  at  watering 
places,  and  in  Paris  for  two  or  three  years.  I  never 
saw  him  do  anything  that  wasn't  quite  right — and  I 
never  heard  anything  against  him  except  what  you 
and  papa  say — and  that  is  rather  indefinite." 

"  And  you  didn't  observe  my  niece  with  French 
Pembroke,  did  you  ?" 

Olivia  Berkeley's  face  turned  a  warm  color.  Such 
very  plain  spoken  persons  as  Mrs.  Peyton  were  a 
little  embarrassing.  But  just  then  came  the  sound 
of  the  Colonel's  voice,  raised  at  a  considerable  dis 
tance. 

"  Olivia,  my  love — God  bless  my  soul — Mrs.  Pey 
ton — there's  that  charming  niece  of  yours — what  a 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  19 

creature  she  was  when  she  lived  in  this  county  as 
Eliza  Peyton — a  regular  stunner,  begad — I  must  go 
and  speak  to  her — and  my  particular  friend,  Ahl- 
berg— excuse  me  a  moment,  my  love."  Colonel 
Berkeley  stalked  across  the  track,  receiving  all  the 
attention  which  Pembroke  had  tried  to  avoid. 
Life  in  his  beloved  Virginia  had  almost  driven  the 
Colonel  distracted  by  its  dullness,  and  he  could  not 
but  welcome  a  fellow  creature  from  the  outside. 
He  buttoned  his  light  overcoat  trimly  around  his 
still  handsome  figure,  and  bowed  majestically  when 
he  reached  the  carriage.  Madame  Koller  returned 
the  bow  with  a  brilliant  smile.  She  was  beginning 
to  feel  very  much  alone,  albeit  she  was  in  her 
native  county,  and  she  welcomed  Colonel  Berkeley 
as  a  deliverer.  Evidently  she  soothed  him  about 
Dashaway.  Pembroke,  passing  by,  heard  scraps 
like  the  following: 

"  I  have  seen  just  such  things  at  the  Grand 
Prix—" 

"  Madame,  the  infernal  system  here  of  putting  up 
irresponsible  negro  boys — 

"  I  could  see  he  had  a  superb  stride — " 

"  Dashaway,  Madame  Koller,  comes  from  the 
very  best  stock  in  the  State  of  Virginia." 

The  day  wore  on,  and  by  dint  of  spinning  things 
out  most  unconscionably  it  was  dusk  of  the  clear 
autumn  evening  before  the  cavalcade  took  the 
dusty  white  road  toward  home.  In  "  the  Isleham 
carriage  "  Colonel  Berkeley  leaned  back  and  waxed 
confidential  with  his  daughter. 


20  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  My   dear,    Eliza    Peyton — Madame    Roller    I 
should  say — is  what  you  young  sprigs  call  green — 
excessively  green.     She  imagines  because  I  am  old 
I  am  a  fool.     And  that  precious  scamp,  Ahlberg — 
"  Why  do  you  call  him  a  scamp,  papa?" 
"  Why  do  I  call  Petrarch  an  African  ?  " 
"  Mrs.  Peyton  seems  to  have  some  kind  of  a  prej 
udice  to  Mr.  Ahlberg,  too." 

"  Aha,  trust  Sally  Peyton  to  see  for  herself. 
She's  devilish  tricky,  is  Sally  Peyton — not  that  I 
have  any  cause  to  complain  of  it — none  whatever. 
She's  very  sharp.  But  we'll  go  and  call  some  day 
on  Eli — Madame  Koller.  She's  not  bad  company 
for  the  country — and  I've  heard  she  could  sing, 
too." 

"  Yes,  we  will  go,"  answered  Olivia,  suppressing 
a  yawn.  "  It's  in  the  country,  as  you  say." 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  21 


CHAPTER  II. 

DOES  anybody  ever  ask  what  becomes  of  the 
prime  donne  who  break  down  early  ?  Madame 
Roller  could  have  told  something  about  their  mis 
eries,  from  the  first  struggling  steps  up  to  the  pin 
nacle  when  they  can  fight  with  managers,  down 
again  to  the  point  when  the  most  dreadful  sound 
that  nature  holds — so  she  thought — a  hiss — laid 
them  figuratively  among  the  dead.  Nature  gener 
ally  works  methodically,  but  in  Madame  Roller's 
case,  she  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in  producing 
grapes  from  thorns.  Without  one  atom  of  artistic 
heredity,  surroundings  or  atmosphere  to  draw  upon, 
Eliza  Peyton  had  come  into  the  world  an  artist. 
She  had  a  voice,  and  she  grew  up  with  the  convic 
tion  that  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  but  voices 
and  pianos.  It  is  not  necessary  to  repeat  how  in  her 
girlhood,  by  dint  of  her  widowed  mother  marrying  a 
third  rate  German  professor,  she  got  to  Munich  and 
to  Milan — nor  how  the  voice,  at  first  astonishingly 
pure  and  beautiful,  suddenly  lost  its  pitch,  then  dis 
appeared  altogether.  It  is  true  that  after  a  time  it 
came  back  to  her  partially.  She  could  count  on  it 
for  an  hour  at  a  time,  but  no  more.  Of  course 
there  was  no  longer  any  career  for  her,  and  she 
nearly  went  crazy  with  grief — then  she  consoled 
herself  with  M.  Roller,  an  elderly  Swiss  manufac- 


22  THE   BERKELEYS 

turer.  In  some  way,  although  she  was  young  and 
handsome  and  accomplished,  she  found  in  her  con 
tinental  travels  that  the  best  Americans  and 
English  avoided  the  Kollers.  This  she  rashly 
attributed  to  the  fact  of  her  having  had  a  brief  pro 
fessional  career,  and  she  became  as  anxious  to 
conceal  it  as  she  had  once  been  anxious  to  pur 
sue  it.  M.  Koller  was  a  hypochondriac,  and  went 
from  Carlsbad  to  Weisbaden,  from  Weisbaden  to 
Hyeres,  from  Hyeres  to  Aix-les-Bains.  He  was 
always  fancying  himself  dying,  but  one  day  at 
Vichy,  death  came  quite  unceremoniously  and 
claimed  him  just  as  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  get 
well.  Thus  Eliza  Koller  found  herself  a  widow, 
still  young  and  handsome,  with  a  comfortable  for 
tune,  and  a  negative  mother  to  play  propriety. 
She  went  straight  to  Paris  as  soon  as  the  period  of 
her  mourning  was  over.  It  was  then  toward  the 
latter  part  of  the  civil  war  in  America,  and  there 
were  plenty  of  Southerners  in  Paris.  There  she 
met  Colonel  Berkeley  and  Olivia,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  adult  life,  she  had  a  fixed  place  in 
society  —  there  was  a  circle  in  which  she  was 
known. 

What  most  troubled  her,  was  what  role  to  take 
up — whether  she  should  be  an  American,  a  French 
woman,  an  Italian,  a  German,  or  a  cosmopolitan. 
For  she  was  like  all,  and  was  distinctively  none. 
In  Paris  at  that  time,  she  met  a  cousin  of  her  late 
husband — Mr.  Ahlberg,  also  a  Swiss,  but  in  the 
Russian  diplomatic  service.  He  was  a  sixth  Secre- 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  2$ 

tary  of  Legation,  and  had  hard  work  making  his 
small  salary  meet  his  expenses.  He  was  a  hand 
some  man,  very  blonde,  and  extremely  well-dressed. 
Madame  Koller  often  wondered  if  his  tailor  were 
not  a  very  confiding  person.  For  Ahlberg's  part, 
he  sincerely  liked  his  cousin,  as  he  called  her,  and 
quite  naturally  slipped  into  the  position  of  a  friend 
of  the  family.  Everything  perhaps  would  have 
been  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  if  just  at  that 
time  the  war  had  not  closed,  and  French  Pembroke 
and  his  brother  came  to  Paris  that  the  surgeons 
might  work  upon  poor  Miles.  They  could  not  but 
meet  often  at  the  Berkeleys,  and  Pembroke,  it  must 
be  admitted,  was  not  devoid  of  admiration  for  the 
handsome  Madame  Koller,  who  had  the  divine 
voice — when  she  could  be  persuaded  to  sing,  which 
was  not  often.  He  had  been  rather  attentive  to 
her,  much  to  Ahlberg's  disgust.  And  to  Ahlberg's 
infinite  rage,  Madame  Koller  fell  distinctly  and 
unmistakably  in  love  with  Pembroke.  If  Ahl- 
berg  had  only  known  the  truth,  Pembroke  was 
really  the  first  gentleman  that  poor  Madame  Koller 
had  ever  known  intimately  since  her  childhood  in 
Virginia.  Certainly  the  wildest  stretch  of  imagina 
tion  could  not  call  the  late  Koller  a  gentleman,  and 
even  Ahlberg  himself,  although  a  member  of  the 
diplomatic  corps,  hardly  came  under  that  descrip 
tion. 

Pembroke  had  a  kind  of  hazy  idea  that  widows 
could  take  care  of  themselves.  Besides,  he  was 
not  really  in  love  with  her — only  a  little  dazzled 


24  THE   BERKELEYS 

by  her  voice  and  her  yellow  hair.  His  wrath  may 
be  imagined  when  after  a  considerable  wrench  in 
tearing  himself  away  from  Paris,  and  when  he  had 
begun  to  regard  Olivia  Berkeley  with  that  lofty 
approval  which  sometimes  precedes  love  making, 
to  return  to  Virginia,  and  in  six  weeks  to  find  Mad 
ame  Schmidt  and  Madame  Roller  established  at 
their  old  place,  The  Beeches,  and  Ahlberg,  who 
had  been  their  shadow  for  two  years,  living  at  the 
village  tavern.  He  felt  that  this  following  him,  on 
the  part  of  Madame  Koller,  made  him  ridiculous. 
He  was  mortally  afraid  of  being  laughed  at  about 
it.  Instead  of  holding  his  own  stoutly  in  acrid  dis 
cussions  with  Colonel  Berkeley,  Pembroke  began 
to  be  afraid  of  the  old  gentleman's  pointed  allusions 
to  the  widow.  He  even  got  angry  with  poor  little 
Miles  when  the  boy  ventured  upon  a  little  sly  chaff. 
As  for  Olivia  Berkeley,  she  took  Madame  Keller's 
conduct  in  coming  to  Virginia  in  high  dudgeon, 
with  that  charming  inconsequence  of  noble  and 
inexperienced  women.  What  particular  offense  it 
gave  her,  beyond  the  appearance  of  following  Pem 
broke,  which  was  shocking  to  her  good  taste,  she 
could  not  have  explained  to  have  saved  her  life. 
But  with  Madame  Koller  she  took  a  tone  of  polite 
ness,  sweet  yet  chilly,  like  frozen  cream — and  the 
same  in  a  less  degree,  toward  Pembroke.  She 
seemed  to  say,  "  Odious  and  underbred  as  this  thing 
is,  I,  you  see,  can  afford  to  be  magnanimous." 
Colonel  Berkeley  chuckled  at  this  on  the  part  of 
his  daughter,  as  he  habitually  did  at  the  innocent 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  2$ 

foibles  of  his  fellow  creatures.     It  was  very  inno 
cent,  very  feminine,  and  very  exasperating. 

Nevertheless,  within  a  week  the  big  landau  was 
drawn  up,  and  Colonel  Berkeley  and  his  daughter 
set  forth,  en  grand  tenue,  with  Petrarch  on  the  box, 
to  call  on  Madame  Roller.  The  Colonel  had  never 
ceased  teasing  his  daughter  to  go.  Time  hung 
heavy  on  his  hands,  and  although  he  had  not  found 
Madame  Roller  particularly  captivating  elsewhere, 
and  Madame  Schmidt  bored  him  to  death  upon  the 
few  occasions  when  she  appeared,  yet,  when  he 
was  at  Isleham,  the  ladies  at  The  Beeches  assumed 
quite  a  fascinating  aspect  to  his  imagination.  The 
Colonel  had  a  private  notion  of  his  own  that  Mad 
ame  Roller  had  been  a  little  too  free  with  her 
income,  and  that  a  year's  retirement  would  contrib 
ute  to  the  health  of  her  finances.  Olivia,  how 
ever,  believed  that  Madame  Roller  had  but  one 
object  in  returning  to  America,  and  that  was 
because  Pembroke  had  come.  She  remembered 
one  evening  in  Paris,  Pembroke  had  "  dropped  in," 
American  fashion.  The  doctors  had  then  said  that 
nothing  could  be  done  to  restore  poor  Miles  to 
comeliness — and  meanwhile,  another  blow  had 
fallen  upon  the  two  brothers.  Their  only  sister, 
Elizabeth,  a  handsome,  high  spirited  girl,  older  than 
they,  had  died — and  there  had  been  a  violent  breach 
between  her  and  their  father  to  which  death  alone 
put  a  truce.  When  the  country  was  overrun  with 
troops,  a  Federal  officer  had  protected  the  planta 
tion  as  far  as  he  could,  had  saved  the  old  father 


26  THE   BERKELEYS 

from  the  consequences  of  his  own  rash  conduct,  and 
had  taken  a  deep  and  tender  interest  in  the  daugh 
ter.  This  was  enough  to  blast  Elizabeth's  life. 
She  gave  up  her  lover — silently,  but  with  a  strange 
unyielding  gentleness,  she  kept  aloof  from  her 
father.  She  was  not  condemned  to  suffer  long. 
The  unhappy  father  followed  her  swiftly  to  the  old 
burying  ground  at  Malvern.  Men  commonly  seek 
distraction  in  griefs.  Pembroke  was  like  the  rest. 
He  was  popular,  especially  among  the  English 
colony  where  his  love  of  sports  and  manly  accom 
plishments  made  him  a  favorite — to  say  nothing 
of  that  prestige,  which  attaches  to  a  man  who  has 
seen  service.  He  had  gone  into  the  war  a  lieuten 
ant,  and  had  come  out  as  major  of  his  ragged, 
half-starVed  regiment.  Therefore  when  Pembroke 
idled  and  amused  himself  in  Paris,  for  some  time 
Olivia  could  only  feel  sympathy  for  him.  She  knew 
well  enough  that  his  means  were  small  and  the 
company  he  kept  was  liable  to  diminish  them — but 
after  a  while,  she  began  to  feel  a  hot  indignation 
against  him.  So  on  this  particular  evening,  the 
Colonel  falling  asleep  opportunely,  she  took  occa 
sion  to  express  her  opinion  to  Pembroke,  that  their 
ruined  country  needed  the  presence  and  the  service 
of  every  man  she  could  call  her  own.  Pembroke 
defended  himself  warmly  at  first.  He  came  for 
Miles'  sake — the  boy  whom  he  had  thought  safe  at 
school,  and  who  ran  away  in  the  very  last  days  of 
the  war  to  enlist — and  almost  the  last  shot  that  was 
fired — so  Pembroke  said  bitterly — disfigured  the 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  2/ 

boy  as  he  now  was.  Miles  had  been  eager  to  come, 
although  Pembroke  was  convinced  from  the  begin 
ning  that  neither  the  French,  nor  any  other  sur 
geons  could  repair  the  work  of  that  shot.  He 
admitted  that  the  boy  had  borne  the  final  decision 
with  great  manliness  and  courage  "  for  such  a  little 
chap,"  the  elder  brother  said  fondly.  When  pressed 
hard  by  Olivia  about  returning  home,  Pembroke 
though  had  no  resource  but  epigrams. 

"  At  all  events,"  she  said  presently,  with  a  pretty 
air  of  heroism,  "  Papa  and  I  are  going  home  just  as 
soon  as  papa  can  do  without  his  crutch.  Papa  is  a  pa 
triot,  although  he  does  talk  so  remarkably  sometimes. 

"  Then,  after  you  have  got  back,  you  can  let  me 
know  how  you  like  Virginia  as  it  is,  and  perhaps  I 
will  follow,"  he  answered,  laughing  in  a  very  exas 
perating  way,  Olivia  thought.  But  when  the 
Berkeleys  got  home  they  found  that  the  Pembrokes 
had  arrived  some  weeks  before  them — and  soon 
afterward  Madame  Koller  and  her  mother  turned  up 
quite  unexpectedly  at  their  deserted  old  place,  only 
to  be  followed  shortly  after  by  Ahlberg,  who,  from 
his  abode  at  the  village  tavern  rode  over  every  day 
on  a  sorry  nag,  to  see  Madame  Koller. 

Imagine  all  this  in  a  provincial  country  neighbor 
hood  ! 

Mr.  Cole,  the  clergyman  of  Petsworth  parish,  was 
a  bachelor,  a  small,  neatly-featured  person,  sus 
pected  of  High  Church  leanings.  The  Colonel  had 
bluntly  inquired  of  him  if  he  intended  to  call  on 
Madame  Koller. 


28  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  Hardly,  I  think,  sir,"  responded  Mr.  Cole,  with 
much  severity.  "  She  has  not  once  been  to  church 
since  she  returned  to  the  county — and  she  only 
two  miles  off — and  I  hear  that  she  and  her  friend 
Mr.  Ahlberg  play  billiards  all  day  long  Sunday, 
when  they  are  not  playing  cards." 

"  Only  the  more  reason  for  you  to  convert  the 
heathen,  ha  !  ha  !  "  answered  the  Colonel — "  and 
let  me  tell  you,  Cole,  if  you  hadn't  been  a  clergy 
man,  you  would  have  been  a  regular  slayer  among 
the  women — and  the  heathen  in  this  case  is  about 
as  pretty  a  heathen  as  you  can  find  in  the  State  of 
Virginia,  sir." 

Evidently  these  remarks  made  a  great  impression 
on  Mr.  Cole,  for  on  the  sunny  afternoon,  when 
Colonel  Berkeley  and  Olivia  drove  up  to  the  door 
of  The  Beeches,  they  saw  a  clerical  looking  figure 
disappear  ahead  of  them  within  the  doorway." 

"The  parson's  here,  by  Jove,"  chuckled  the 
Colonel. 

The  house  was  modern  and  rather  showy.  Inside 
there  were  evidences  that  Madame  Roller  was  not 
devoid  of  taste  or  money  either.  The  Berkelcys 
were  ushered  into  a  big  square  drawing  room,  where, 
seated  in  a  high-backed  chair,  with  his  feet  barely 
touching  the  floor,  was  the  little  clergyman. 

"  Why,  Cole,  I  am  deuced  glad  you  took  my 
advice,"  cried  the  Colonel,  advancing  with  out 
stretched  hand  and  with  a  kind  of  hearty  good  fel 
lowship  that  pleased  Mr.  Cole,  and  yet  frightened 
him  a  little.  He  was  a  good  soul  and  divided  his 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  29 

small  salary  with  his  mother,  but  he  thought  Colonel 
Berkeley's  society  rather  dangerous  for  a  clergy 
man.  He  used  too  many  expletives,  and  was  alto 
gether  too  free  in  his  notions  of  what  a  churchman 
should  be — for  the  Colonel  was  a  stanch  church 
man,  and  would  have  sworn  like  a  pirate  at  any 
body  who  questioned  his  orthodoxy. 

"Doing  missionary  work,  hay,  Mr.  Cole?"  con 
tinued  Colonel  Berkeley,  while  Olivia  and  Mr.  Cole 
shook  hands. 

A  faint  pink  mounted  into  the  clergyman's  face. 
His  curiosity  had  got  the  better  of  him,  but  the 
excellent  little  man  fancied  it  was  his  Christian 
charity  that  won  the  victory. 

"  Well,  Colonel,"  he  begun,  "  upon  reflection  I 
concluded  it  was  my  duty  to  call  on  Madame  Kol- 
ler.  I  wasn't  in  this  parish — in  fact,  I  wasn't 
ordained  at  the  time  Madame  Koller  was  Miss  Eliza 
Peyton,  and  Madame  Schmidt  was  Mrs.  Edward 
Peyton.  And  being  the  niece  of  my  excellent 
friend — Mrs.  Sally  Peyton — 

"  Excellent  friend,  eh — well,  don't  you  trust  Sally 
Peyton  too  far,  my  good  fellow.  She  was  a  mighty 
uncertain  kind  of  a  friend  thirty  or  forty  years  ago 
— not  that  I  have  any  particular  reason  for  saying 
so.  But  you  are  quite  right  in  paying  your 
respects  to  Eliza  Peyton — I  mean  Madame  Koller, 
and  I  only  hope  she'll  find  our  society  agreeable 
enough  to  stay  here." 

A  considerable  wait  ensued.  Olivia  had  begun 
to  wonder  how  long  it  took  Madame  Koller  to 
3 


3O  THE  BERKELEYS 

make  a  complete  toilet,  when  a  white  hand 
moved  the  curtain  from  a  doorway,  and  noiselessly 
and  gently  Madame  Roller  entered. 

She  was  heartily  glad  to  see  them — their  call  was 
not  very  prompt,  but  it  would  have  been  a  cruel 
mortification  had  they  omitted  to  come.  Olivia's 
hand  she  pressed — so  she  did  the  Colonel's — and 
also  Mr.  Cole's,  who  colored  quite  violently,  although 
he  struggled  for  self-possession. 

"  We  are  very  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Olivia, 
with  her  sweetest  affability,  "  you  will  be  a  great 
acquisition  to  the  neighborhood.  You  see,  I  am 
already  beginning  to  think  more  of  our  own  neigh 
borhood  than  all  the  rest  of  the  universe." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  answered 
Madame  Koller,  with  equal  cordiality.  The  two 
women,  however,  did  not  cease  to  examine  each 
other  like  gladiators. 

"  And  Mr.  Cole,  I  think  you  were  not  here  when 
I  lived  at  The  Beeches  as  a  girl." 

"  No,  madam,"  replied  Mr.  Cole,  who  had  now 
shaded  from  a  red  to  a  pink. 

"  And  did  I  not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
at  the  Campdown  races  the  other  day?  " 

Mr.  Cole  turned  pale  and  nearly  dropped  off  his 
chair.  The  Colonel  roared  out  his  pleasant  cheery 
laugh. 

"  No  madam,  you  did  not."  Mr.  Cole  made  his 
denial  so  emphatic  that  he  was  ashamed  of  himself 
for  it  afterwards. 

"  But  you,  Miss  Berkeley,  were  there.     My  cousin 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  31 

Ahlberg  saw  you.  He  praised  you.  He  compli 
mented  you.  '  I  have  often  seen  that  face/  he  said. 
'  There  are  some  faces  which  one  remembers  even 
in  the  whirl  of  the  greatest  cities.  I  drive  around 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne — once — twice — three  times. 
I  speak  to  a  hundred  friends.  I  see  a  thousand 
faces.  They  pass  before  me  like  shadows  of  the 
night.  One  face  strikes  me.  It  rises  like  a  star 
from  out  the  sea.  Ah,  I  exclaim,  '  here  is  another 
photograph  for  my  mental  portrait  gallery.'  " 

Neither  the  Colonel  nor  Olivia  was  fully  prepared 
to  accept  Ahlberg.  Consequently,  Madame  Kol- 
ler's  remark  was  received  with  a  cool  smile  by 
Olivia — and  a  sniff  by  the  Colonel.  But  Mr.  Cole 
was  quite  carried  away  by  Madame  Keller's  declam 
atory  manner,  and  her  really  beautiful  voice. 

"  What  a  gift  of  tongues,"  he  said.  "  Madame 
Koller,  if  a — er — public  speaker — a  religious  in 
structor  had  your  felicity  of  expression — 

"  I  trust,"  answered  Madame,  "  some  time  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  your  felicity  of  expres 
sion.  I  am  not  what  you  call  a  Christian.  I  believe 
in  a  system  of  ultimate  good — a  philosophy  if  you 
will—" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cordially  chimed  in  Colonel  Berkeley 
with  something  dangerously  like  a  wink,  "  I  knew 
Madame,  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  that  you  believed  in  a 
system.  It's  very  useful  and  elastic  and  philosophic." 

Madame  playfully  waved  her  hand  at  the  colonel, 
and  turned  to  Mr.  Cole. 

"  We  will  be  friends,  nevertheless,"  she  said  with 


32  THE   BERKELEYS 

a  captivating  smile.  "  I  will  visit  your  church  in 
the  morning,  and  you  will  return  to  luncheon  with 
me,  and  we  will  have  a  little  game  of  billiards  after 
ward." 

Mr.  Cole's  delicate  face  grew  ashy.  He,  John 
Chrysostom  Cole,  playing  billiards  on  Sunday ! 
What  would  his  mother  say — and  what  would  the 
bishop  say  !  Olivia  looked  a  little  shocked  because 
of  course  Madame  Koller  must  know  better.  Not 
so  the  Colonel.  He  laughed  heartlessly  at  Mr.  Cole, 
and  began  to  think  Eliza  Peyton  was  a  more  amus 
ing  person  than  he  had  fancied. 

"  Madame  Koller,"  began  Mr.  Cole  solemnly  after 
a  moment,  "  your  long  absence  from  this  country 
— your  unfamiliarity  with  clergymen  perhaps — and 
with  the  American  Sabbath — 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  the  American  Sabbath 
very  well,"  replied  Madame  Koller  laughing  and 
raising  her  eyebrows.  "  My  aunt,  Mrs.  Peyton, 
always  took  me  to  church  with  her,  and  I  had  to 
listen  to  Dr.  Steptoe's  sermons.  Oh  those  ser 
mons  !  However,"  she  added,  turning  her  express 
ive  eyes  full  on  Mr.  Cole.  "  I  know,  I  know  yours 
must  be  very  different.  Well,  I  will  go.  And  for 
give  me,  if  I  sometimes  shock  you — forgive  and 
pity  me." 

Mr.  Cole  thought  that  only  a  heart  of  stone 
could  have  hardened  against  that  pretty  appeal. 
And  the  widow  was  so  deliciously  charming  with 
her  half-foreign  manner  and  her  whole-foreign  look. 
But  billiards  on  Sunday  ! 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  33 

"  Extend  the  invitation  to  me,  ma'am,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  I  go  to  church  on  Sunday — I  have  no 
system,  just  the  plain  religious  belief  of  a  church 
man  and  a  gentleman — my  ancestors  were  not 
a  lot  of  psalm-singing  hypocrites,  but  cavaliers, 
madam,  from  the  Court  of  Charles  the  Second. 
But  after  I've  been  to  church  to  please  my  con 
science  and  my  daughter,  I  don't  mind  pleasing 
myself  a  little.  I'll  play  billiards  with  you — 

The  door  opened  and  Ahlberg  appeared.  Now 
Mr.  Ahlberg  was  not  a  favorite  of  Colonel  Berke 
ley's  at  any  time — still  less  of  Olivia's  ;  but  it  was  in 
the  country,  and  it  was  very,  very  dull,  so  he  got 
the  most  cordial  greeting  he  had  ever  had  from 
either  of  them.  The  conversation  became  general, 
and  as  soon  as  Ahlberg  had  the  opportunity,  he 
edged  toward  Olivia.  He  was  no  gentle,  unsophis 
ticated  creature,  like  Mr.  Cole.  He  knew  that 
Olivia  Berkeley's  polite  and  self-possessed  manner 
toward  him  concealed  a  certain  hardness.  He 
made  no  particular  headway  in  her  good  graces  he 
saw — and  not  much  more  in  the  Colonel's.  But 
both  gentlemen  were  hard  up  for  amusement,  and 
each  was  willing  to  be  amused,  so,  when  Mr.  Ahlberg, 
after  a  few  well-bred  vacuities  with  Olivia,  devoted 
himself  to  Colonel  Berkeley,  he  was  rewarded  with 
the  intimation  that  the  Colonel  would  call  on 
him  at  the  village  tavern,  and  this  was  followed 
up  by  another  hint  of  a  dinner  invitation  to  follow. 
This  cheered  Mr.  Ahlberg  very  much,  for  to  tell 
the  truth  he  was  as  near  starvation  as  a  man  could 


34  THE  BERKELEYS 

be  in  this  nineteenth  century,  who  had  money  in 
his  pocket.  If,  however,  Mr.  Ahlberg  had  made 
it  his  business  to  horrify  Mr.  Cole,  he  could  not 
have  done  it  more  thoroughly.  He  bewailed  the 
absence  of  book-makers  at  the  races,  and  wished  to 
know  why  elections  were  not  held  in  America  on 
Sunday,  took  occasion  to  say  that  religion  was 
merely  an  affair  of  the  State,  and  he  too  was  a 
believer  in  a  system.  When  they  all  rose  to  go, 
poor  Mr.  Cole  was  quite  limp  and  overcome,  but  he 
made  an  effort  to  retain  his  self-possession.  He 
urged  both  Madame  Koller  and  Mr.  Ahlberg  to 
attend  the  morning  service  on  the  following  Sun 
day.  Both  promised  conditionally. 

The  clergyman  had  walked  over  from  the  rec 
tory  where  his  mother  presided  over  his  modest 
establishment. 

"Come,  Cole,"  cried  the  Colonel,  who  was  the 
soul  of  hospitality,  "  here's  another  seat  in  the 
carriage.  Come  back  to  dinner  with  us.  I've  got 
some  capital  champagne,  and  Olivia  will  play  for 
you." 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  champagne,  thank  you," 
answered  Mr.  Cole,  "  but  I'll  come  for  the  pleasure 
of  Miss  Olivia's  playing  and  her  society  also." 

Scarcely  had  the  carriage  turned  into  the  lane, 
when  Mr.  Cole  burst  forth : 

"  Miss  Olivia,  did  you  ever  meet  a  more  godless 
person  in  your  life  than  Mr.  Ahlberg?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  did,"  answered  Olivia, 
with  much  sincerity. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  35 

"  But  the  widow — Eliza  Peyton — eh,  Cole  ?  I 
think  you  have  made  some  headway  there,"  cried 
the  Colonel,  wagging  his  head  at  the  little  clergy 
man.  Mr.  Cole's  heart  began  to  thump.  Strange 
it  was  that  although  he  ought,  as  a  Christian  and  a 
clergyman,  to  disapprove  of  Madame  Koller  with 
her  beautiful  blonde  hair,  he  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  feel  it.  Nevertheless  he  could  say  it 
easily  enough. 

"  I  very  much  doubt,  sir,  the  propriety  of  my 
visiting  at  The  Beeches." 

"  Pooh,  pooh.  You'll  get  over  it,"  chuckled 
Colonel  Berkeley. 

Ah,  John  Chrysostom  !  Has  it  never  been  known 
that  the  outward  man  denounced  what  the  inward 
man  yearned  and  hankered  after  ?  At  this  very 
moment  do  you  not  remember  the  turn  of  Madame 
Keller's  handsome  head,  and  the  faint  perfume  that 
exhaled  from  her  trailing  gown  ? 

"  We  must  invite  them  to  dinner,"  said  the 
Colonel,  decidedly.  "  Cole,  you  must  come,  too. 
That  poor  devil,  Ahlberg,  is  almost  starved  at  the 
tavern  on  fried  chicken  three  times  a  day,  and 
claret  from  the  tavern  bar." 


36  THE   BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  ROUND  of  solemn  afternoon  dinings  followed 
the  return  of  the  Berkeleys  to  Isleham,  and  were 
scrupulously  returned.  But  both  the  Colonel  and 
Olivia  felt  that  it  would  not  be  well  to  include  any 
of  the  county  gentry  the  day  Madame  Koller  and 
Mr.  Ahlberg  were  to  dine  with  them.  Mr.  Cole 
had  already  been  invited — and  Colonel  Berkeley  of 
his  own  free  will,  without  saying  a  word  to  Olivia, 
asked  the  two  Pembrokes.  Olivia,  when  she  heard 
of  this,  was  intensely  vexed.  She  had  used  both 
sarcasm  and  persuasion  on  Pembroke  in  Paris  to 
get  him  home,  and  he  had  laughed  at  her.  Yet  she 
was  firmly  convinced,  as  soon  as  Madame  Koller 
expressed  a  determination  to  come,  either  Pem 
broke  had  agreed,  or  else  Madame  Koller  had  fol 
lowed  him — in  either  case  Olivia  was  not  pleased, 
and  received  the  Colonel's  information  that  the 
Pembrokes  would  be  there  sure  in  ominous  silence. 
Nothing  remained  but  for  her  to  show  what  a 
remarkably  good  dinner  she  could  give — and  this 
she  felt  was  clearly  within  her  power.  She  was 
naturally  a  clever  housekeeper,  and  as  the  case  often 
was  in  those  days,  the  freedom  of  the  negroes  had 
made  but  little  difference  in  the  me'nage  at  Isle- 
ham.  Most  of  the  house  servants  had  turned 
squatters  on  the  plantation.  Petrarch,  unpopular 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  3/ 

among  his  confreres  because  of  his  superior  advan 
tages  and  accomplishments  as  well  as  his  assump 
tion  of  righteousness,  was  the  major-domo — and 
then  there  was  Ike,  a  gingerbread  colored  Chester 
field,  as  dining-room  servant. 

"  Miss  'Livy,  you  jes'  let  me  manage  dem  black 
niggers,"  was  Petrarch's  sensible  advice.  "  Dey 
doan  know  nuttin'  'bout  a  real  swell  dinner.  I  say 
yistiddy  to  Cook  M'ria,  '  Why  doan  yer  have 
some  orntrees  fur  dinner  outen  all  dat  chicken  an' 
truck  you  has  lef  over  ev'y  day?'  an'  Miss  'Livy,  ef 
you  will  b'lieve  me,  dat  nigger,  she  chase  me  outen 
de  kitchen  wid  a  shovel  full  o'  live  coals.  She  ain' 
got  no  'spect  for  'ligion.  Arter  I  got  out  in  de 
yard,  I  say,  '  You  discontemptuous,  disreligious  ole 
cantamount,  doan'  you  know  better'n  to  sass  de 
Lord's  'n'inted?'"  (this  being  Petrarch's  favorite 
characterization  of  himself).  "  But  M'ria  ain'  got 
de  sperrit  'scusin*  'tis  de  sperrit  o'  owdaciousness. 
Ez  fur  dat  Ike,  I  done  tole  him  '  I  am  de  Gord  o' 
respicution,'  an'  he  'low  I  ain't  no  sech  a  thing.  I 
gwi'n  lick  dat  yaller  nigger  fo'  long:" 

"  You'd  better  not  try  it  Uncle  Petrarch — "  (Pe 
trarch  was  near  to  sixty,  and  was  therefore  by  cour 
tesy,  Uncle  Petrarch).  "  Ike  won't  stand  it,  and 
/won't  have  it  either,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  Berkeleys  went  against  the  county  custom, 
and  dined  in  the  evening.  Therefore,  at  seven 
o'clock  precisely,  on  the  evening  of  the  dinner, 
French  Pembroke  and  his  brother  entered  the 
quaint  old  drawing-room  at  Isleham.  Olivia  had 


38  THE  BERKELEYS 

learned  the  possibilities  of  ancient  mahogany  fur 
niture  and  family  portraits,  and  the  great  rambling 
old  house  was  picturesque  enough.  A  genuine 
Virginia  wood  fire  roared  up  the  chimney,  where 
most  of  the  heat  as  well  as  the  flame  went.  Wax 
candles,  in  tall  silver  candlesticks,  were  on  the  man 
tel,  and  the  piano.  Miss  Berkeley  herself,  in  a  white 
wool  gown,  looked  a  part  of  the  pleasant  homelike 
picture,  as  she  greeted  her  two  guests.  French 
Pembroke  had  called  twice  to  see  them,  but  neither 
time  had  Olivia  been  at  home.  This,  then,  was 
their  first  meeting,  except  the  few  minutes  at  the 
races.  He  was  the  same  easy,  pleasantly  cynical 
Pembroke  she  had  known  in  Paris.  There  was 
another  French  Pembroke  whom  she  remembered 
in  her  childish  days  as  very  good  natured,  when  he 
was  not  very  tyrannical,  in  the  visits  she  used  to 
pay  with  her  dead  and  gone  mother  long  ago  to 
Malvern — and  this  other  Pembroke  could  recite 
wonderful  poetry  out  of  books,  and  scare  little 
Miles  and  herself  into  delicious  spasms  of  terror 
by  the  weird  stories  he  would  tell.  But  Miles  had 
changed  in  every  way.  He  had  been  in  his  earlier 
boyish  days  the  pet  and  darling  of  women,  but  now 
he  slunk  away  from  the  pity  in  their  tender  eyes. 
He  had  once  had  a  mannish  little  strut  and  a  way 
of  looking  out  of  his  bold  blue  eyes  that  made  a 
path  for  him  wherever  he  chose  to  tread.  But 
now  he  shambled  in,  keeping  as  far  out  of  sight  as 
possible  behind  the  elder  brother's  stalwart  figure. 
Colonel  Berkeley  shook  Miles's  one  hand  cor 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  39 

dially.  His  armless  sleeve  was  pinned  up  to  his 
coat  front. 

"  God  bless  my  soul,"  the  Colonel  cried.  "Am 
I  getting  old  ?  Here's  little  Miles  Pembroke  almost 
a  man." 

"  Almost — papa — you  mean  quite  a  man.  It  is 
a  dreadful  reflection  to  me  that  I  am  older  than 
Miles,"  said  Olivia,  smiling.  Then  they  sat  about 
the  fire,  and  Olivia,  putting  her  fan  down  in  her 
lap,  looked  French  Pembroke  full  in  the  face  and 
said,  "  You  know,  perhaps,  that  Madame  Roller 
and  Mr.  Ahlberg  dine  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Pembroke,  with  all  the  coolness 
of  conscious  innocence — or  brazen  assurance  of 
careless  wickedness,  Olivia  could  not  tell  which. 

"  You  saw  a  good  deal  of  them  abroad,  didn't 
you  ?  "  was  her  next  question. 

"  Yes,"  again  replied  Pembroke. 

"  Olivia,  my  dear,"  said  her  father,  who  very 
much  enjoyed  this  little  episode,  "  you  women 
will  never  learn  that  you  can't  find  anything  out 
by  asking  questions;  and  Pembroke,  my  boy, 
remember  that  women  never  believe  you  except 
when  you  are  lying  to  them.  Let  him  alone, 
Olivia,  and  he  will  tell  you  the  whole  stoay,  I'll 
warrant." 

Olivia's  training  had  made  her  something^  of  a 
stoic  under  Colonel  Berkeley's  remarks,  twit  at  this 
a  deep  red  dyed  her  clear  pale  face.  She  was  the 
best  of  daughters,  but  she  could  at  that  moment 
have  cheerfully  inflicted  condign  punishment  on 


40  THE   BERKELEYS 

her  father.  Pembroke  saw  it  too,  not  without  a  lit 
tle  malicious  satisfaction.  She  had  quietly  assumed 
in  her  tone  and  manner  that  he  was  in  some  way 
responsible  for  Madame  Roller  and  her  mother  be 
ing  at  The  Beeches — an  incident  fraught  with  much 
discomfort  for  him — none  the  less  that  there  was 
nothing  tragic  about  it,  but  rather  ridiculous.  All 
the  same,  he  determined  to  set  himself  right  on  the 
spot. 

"  Of  course,  I  saw  them  often.  It  would  have 
been  quite  unpardonable  if  I  had  not,  considering 
we  were  often  in  the  same  places — and  our  land 
joins.  I  can't  say  that  I  recollect  Madame  Koller 
very  much  before  she  went  away.  I  only  remem 
ber  her  as  rather  an  ugly  little  thing,  always  strum 
ming  on  the  piano.  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling 
both  her  and  Madame  Schmidt  that  I  did  not  think 
they  would  find  a  winter  at  The  Beeches  very  pleas 
ant — but  it  seems  she  did  not  agree  with  me. 
Ahlberg  is  a  cousin  by  marriage,  and  has  been  in 
the  diplomatic  corps — 

And  at  that  very  moment  Petrarch  threw  open 
the  drawing-room  door  and  announced  "  Mrs.  Koller 
and  Mr.  Ahlberg,  sah." 

Madame  Roller's  appearance  was  none  the  less 
striking  in  evening  dress,  with  ropes  of  amber 
around  her  neck,  and  some  very  fine  diamonds. 
Who  says  that  women  are  indifferent  to  each  other? 
The  instant  Olivia  beheld  Madame  Roller  in  her 
gorgeous  trailing  gown  of  yellow  silk,  and  her  jew 
els,  she  felt  plain,  insignificant,  and  colorless  both  in 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  4! 

features,  dress  and  manner — while  Madame  Roller, 
albeit  she  knew  both  herself  and  other  women  sin 
gularly  well,  almost  envied  Olivia  the  girlish  sim 
plicity,  the  slightness  and  grace  that  made  her  a 
pretty  picture  in  her  white  gown  with  the  bunch  of 
late  autumn  roses  at  her  belt. 

The  clergyman  came  last.  Then  Petrarch  opened 
the  folding  doors  and  announced  dinner,  and  Colonel 
Berkeley  gallantly  offering  his  arm  to  Madame  Kol- 
ler,  they  all  marched  in. 

Something  like  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  escaped  Mr. 
Ahlberg.  Once  more  he  was  to  dine.  Madame 
Koller  sat  on  the  Colonel's  right,  and  at  her  right  was 
Mr.  Cole.  The  clergyman's  innocent  heart  beat 
when  he  saw  this  arrangement.  He  still  fancied 
that  he  strongly  disapproved  of  Madame  Koller, 
the  more  so  when  he  saw  the  nonchalant  way  in 
which  she  took  champagne  and  utterly  ignored  the 
carafe  of  water  at  her  plate.  Mr.  Cole  took  only 
claret,  and  watered  that  liberally. 

Madame  Koller  certainly  had  a  very  pretty  man 
ner — rather  elaborate  and  altogether  different  from 
Olivia's  self-possessed  simplicity.  She  spoke  of  her 
mother — "  so  happy  once  more  to  be  back  in  Vir 
ginia."  Madame  Schmidt,  always  wrapped  up  in 
shawls,  and  who  never  volunteered  a  remark  to  any 
body  in  her  life,  scarcely  seemed  to  outsiders  to  be 
quite  capable  of  any  enjoyment.  And  Aunt  Peyton 
— dear  Aunt  Peyton — so  kind,  so  handsome — so 
anxious  that  people  shall  please  themselves — 
"  Upon  my  soul,  madam,"  cried  the  Colonel,  with 


42  THE   BERKELEYS 

much  hearty  good  humor,  "  I  am  delighted  to  hear 
that  last  about  my  old  friend  Sally  Peyton.  I've 
known  her  well  for  fifty  years — perhaps  she  wouldn't 
acknowledge  it — and  a  more  headstrong,  deter 
mined,  self-willed  woman  I  never  saw.  Sally  is  a 
good  woman,  and  by  heaven,  she  was  a  devilish 
pretty  one  when — when — you  may  have  heard  the 
story,  ma'am — but  she  always  wanted  to  please  her 
self  a  d — n  sight  more  than  anybody  else — includ 
ing  Ned  Peyton." 

The  Colonel  said  this  quite  pleasantly,  and 
Madame  Koller  smiled  at  it — she  seldom  laughed. 
•'  Were  you  not  some  years  in  the  army,  Colonel 
Berkeley?"  she  asked  presently.  "It  seems  to 
me  I  have  some  recollection  of  having  heard  it." 
Colonel  Berkeley  colored  slightly.  He  valued  his 
military  title  highly,  but  he  didn't  know  exactly 
how  he  came  by  it. 

"  The  fact  is  madam,"  he  replied,  clearing  his 
throat,  "  in  the  old  days  we  had  a  splendid  militia. 
Don't  you  remember  the  general  musters,  hay? 
Now  I  was  the — the  commanding  officer  of  the 
Virginia  Invincibles — a  crack  cavalry  company, 
composed  exclusively  of  the  county  gentlemen — 
and  in  some  way,  they  called  me  colonel,  and  a 
colonel  I  remained." 

"  The  title  seems  quite  natural,"  said  Madame 
Koller,  with  a  sweet  smile — "  You  have  such  a 
military  carriage — that  indescribable  air — "  at  which 
the  Colonel,  who  never  tired  of  laughing  at  other 
people's  foibles,  straightened  up,  assumed  a  mar- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  43 

tial  pose,  and  showed  vast  elation  and  immense 
pleasure — which  Madame  Roller  saw  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye. 

Miles,  sitting  next  Olivia,  had  grown  confiden 
tial.  "  I — I — want  to  tell  you,"  he  said  bashfully, 
"  the  reason  why  I  didn't  come  to  see  you  in  Paris. 
It  required  some  nerve  for  a  fellow — in  my  condi 
tion — to  face  a  woman — even  the  best  and  kindest." 

"  Was  that  it  ?  "  answered  Olivia  half  smiling. 

"  You  are  laughing  at  me,"  he  said  reproachfully. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  replied  Olivia. 

A  genuine  look  of  relief  stole  into  his  poor  face. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  so  bad  after  all  if  Olivia  Berkely 
could  laugh  at  his  sensitiveness. 

"  So,"  continued  Olivia,  promptly,  "  you  acted 
like  a  vain,  foolish  boy.  But  I  see  you  are  getting 
over  it." 

"  I'll  try.  You  wouldn't  treat  me  so  cavalierly, 
would  you,  if — if — it  were  quite — dreadful  ?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't  dreadful  at  all,  or  anything  like  it," 
replied  Olivia,  telling  one  of  those  generous  and 
womanly  fibs  that  all  true  women  utter  with  the 
full  approval  of  their  consciences. 

Meanwhile,  Ahlberg  and  Pembroke  had  been 
conversing.  Ahlberg  was  indeed  a  clever  fellow — 
for  he  talked  in  a  straightforward  way,  and  gave 
not  the  slightest  ground  in  anything  he  said  for 
the  suspicion  that  Pembroke  obstinately  cherished 
against  him. 

"  What  do  you  do  with  yourself  all  day,  Miss 
Berkeley?"  asked  Pembroke  after  a  while. 


44  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  There  is  plenty  to  do.  I  have  a  dozen  servants 
to  manage  that  ran  wild  while  we  were  away — 
and  the  house  to  keep,  and  to  look  after  the  gar 
den — and  I  ride  or  drive  every  day — and  keep  up 
my  piano  playing — and  read  a  little.  What  do 
you  do  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Pembroke,  boldly. 

Olivia  did  not  say  a  word.  She  threw  him  one 
brief  glance  though,  from  her  dark  eyes  that  con 
veyed  a  volume. 

"  I  have  a  license  to  practice  law,"  he  continued, 
coolly.  "  I've  had  it  for  five  years — got  it  just 
before  the  State  went  out,  when  I  went  out  too. 
Four  years'  soldiering  isn't  a  good  preparation  for 
the  law." 

"Ah!"  said  Olivia. 

"  I  have  enough  left,  I  daresay,  to  keep  me  with 
out  work,"  he  added. 

If  he  had  studied  how  to  make  himself  contempt 
ible  in  Olivia's  eyes,  he  could  not  have  done  so 
more  completely.  She  had  acquired  perfect  self- 
possession  of  manner,  but  her  mobile  face  was  as 
yet  undisciplined.  When  to  this  last  remark  she 
said  in  her  sweetest  manner,  "  Won't  you  let 
Petrarch  fill  your  glass  ?  "  it  was  equivalent  to  say 
ing,  "  You  are  the  most  worthless  and  contemptible 
creature  on  this  planet."  Just  then  the  Colonel's 
cheery  voice  resounded  from  the  foot  of  the  table. 

"  Pembroke,  when  I  drove  through  the  Court 
House  to-day,  it  made  me  feel  like  a  young  man 
again,  to  see  your  father's  old  tin  sign  hanging  out 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  45 

of  the  old  office,  '  French  Pembroke,  Attorney  at 
Law.'  It  has  been  a  good  many  years  since  that 
sign  was  first  put  up.  Egad,  your  father  and  I  have 
had  some  good  times  in  that  office,  in  the  old,  old 
days.  He  always  kept  a  first-class  brand  of  liquors. 
His  style  of  serving  it  wasn't  very  imposing,  but  it 
didn't  hurt  the  liquor.  I've  drank  cognac  fit  for  a 
king  in  that  office,  and  drank  it  out  of  a  shaving 
mug  borrowed  from  the  barber  next  door — ha !  ha  !  " 

A  change  like  magic  swept  over  Olivia's  face.  It 
indicated  great  relief  that  Pembroke  was  not  an 
idle  scamp  after  all.  She  tried  to  look  sternly  and 
reproachfully  at  him,  but  a  smile  lurked  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  not  as  lazy  as  I  thought  you,  but  twice 
as  deceitful,"  she  said. 

Pembroke  was  amused  at  the  extreme  suavity  of 
the  two  ladies  toward  each  other,  knowing  that 
at  heart  it  masked  an  armed  neutrality.  Particu 
larly  did  he  notice  it  after  dinner,  when  they 
returned  to  the  drawing-room  and  the  piano  was 
opened.  Madame  Koller  was  asked  to  sing,  but  first 
begged  that  Miss  Berkeley  should  play.  Olivia,  with 
out  protesting,  went  to  the  piano.  Her  playing  was 
finished  and  artistic,  and  full  of  the  delicate  repose 
of  a  true  musician.  When  she  rose  Madame  Koller 
overflowed  with  compliments.  "  And  now,  madam," 
said  the  Colonel,  rising  and  offering  his  hand  with  a 
splendid  and  graceful  flourish,  "  will  you  not  let  us 
hear  that  voice  that  charmed  us  when  you  were  lit 
tle  Eliza  Peyton." 

Madame  Koller  did  not  like  to  be  called  Eliza 
4 


46  THR   BERKELEYS 

Peyton — it  was  too  commonplace — Elise  Koller 
was  much  more  striking.  And  then  she  was  uncer 
tain  whether  to  sing  or  not.  She  had  tried  hard  to 
keep  that  stage  episode  secret,  and  she  was  afraid 
if  she  sang,  that  something  might  betray  her.  She 
glanced  at  Ahlberg,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Shall  I  ?  " 
but  Ahlberg  maintained  a  sphinx-like  gravity.  But 
the  temptation  was  too  great.  Olivia's  playing 
was  pretty  for  an  amateur — but  Madame  Koller  de 
spised  the  best  amateur  performance  as  only  a  true 
professional  can.  Therefore  she  rose  and  went  to 
the  piano,  and  turned  over  some  of  the  ballads 
there.  She  pretended  to  be  looking  at  them,  but 
she  was  not. 

"  Louis,"  she  said  to  Ahlberg,  who  was  twisting 
his  waxed  mustache.  He  came  at  once  and 
seated  himself  at  the  piano. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  "  Caro  name  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Very  good.  You  always  sung  the  Rigolctto 
music  well." 

Madame  Koller  was  not  pleased  at  this  slip — but 
at  all  events,  nobody  but  herself  understood  it  in 
the  sense  that  Ahlberg  meant. 

Ahlberg  struck  a  few  chords,  and  Madame  Koller 
begun  from  memory  the  celebrated  aria.  As  she 
sang,  Colonel  Berkeley  opened  his  sharp  old  eyes  very 
wide  indeed.  This  was  not  the  kind  of  music  often 
heard  in  drawing  rooms.  He  glanced  at  Pembroke, 
to  see  if  he  was  astonished.  That  young  gentle, 
man  only  leaned  back  in  the  sofa  corner  near  the 
fire  to  better  enjoy  this  delicious  singing.  Olivia's 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  47 

face  looked  puzzled — so  did  Miles.  In  singing, 
Madame  Koller  was  handsomer  than  ever.  She 
had  perfect  control  over  her  facial  expression,  and 
seemed  quite  transformed.  Once  or  twice  she  used 
a  graceful  gesture,  or  made  a  step  forward — it  was 
highly  dramatic,  but  not  in  the  least  stagy. 

But  if  Madame  Keller's  performance  was  far  out 
of  the  common  run,  so  was  that  of  her  accompanist. 
He  looked  remarkably  at  home  on  the  piano  stool, 
and  Colonel  Berkeley  rubbed  his  eyes  and  tried  to 
recall  if  he  had  ever  seen  Ahlberg  ornamenting  a 
piano  stool  at  a  concert,  but  could  not  remember. 
When  the  last  brilliant  note  and  rich  chord  died 
away  Miles  Pembroke  suddenly  began  to  clap  his 
knee  loudly  with  his  one  remaining  hand — which 
produced  a  furious  hand  clapping,  in  which  every 
body  else  vehemently  and  involuntarily  joined,  Mr. 
Cole  feebly  shouting  "  Bravo  !  Bravo  !  "  Madame 
Koller  started,  and  when  the  applause  ceased,  she 
seemed  like  one  coming  out  of  a  dream,  In  the 
buzz  of  compliments  that  followed,  Ahlberg's  voice 
cut  in  saying,  "  You  were  too  dramatic." 

Madame  Koller  had  been  receiving  the  compli 
ments  paid  her  with  smiling  grace,  but  at  this,  she 
cast  a  strange  look  on  Ahlberg,  nor  would  she  sing 
again,  although  urged  to  do  so.  And  presently  it 
was  time  to  leave,  and  Madame  Koller  and  her 
escort  departed  in  the  little  victoria  which  had 
come  for  them,  the  Colonel  wrapping  her  up  in 
innumerable  furs  to  protect  her  from  the  sharp 
night  air  of  November. 


48  THE  BERKELEYS 

When  he  returned  to  the  drawing  room,  Olivia 
and  the  clergyman  and  the  Pembrokes  were  all 
standing  around  the  blazing  fire.  The  Colonel 
walked  in,  and  squaring  himself  before  the  generous 
fireplace  with  his  coat  tails  over  his  arm,  surveyed 
the  company  and  remarked, 

"  Professional,  by  Jove." 

"  Now,  papa,"  said  Olivia,  taking  him  by  the  arm, 
"  you  are  the  best  and  kindest  of  men,  but  you 
shan't  say  '  professional,  by  Jove,'  of  Madame 
Koller,  the  very  minute  she  has  quitted  your  house. 
You  know  how  often  I've  told  you  of  my  rule  that 
you  shall  not  mention  the  name  of  a  guest  until 
twenty-four  hours  after  that  guest's  departure." 

She  said  it  with  an  air  of  authority,  and  tweaked 
the  Colonel's  ear  to  emphasize  her  severity. 

"  But  I  am  not  saying  any  harm  about  her, 
Olivia." 

"  Just  what  I  expected,"  groaned  Mr.  Cole. 

"  Perhaps  her  voice  gave  out,  and  she  quitted  the 
stage  early,"  remarked  Pembroke. 

"  Not  a  word  more,"  cried  Olivia  sternly.  "  She 
sings  delightfully.  But — a — it  was  rather  prima 
donna-ish." 

"  Aha !  Oho  !  "  shouted  the  Colonel.  "  There 
you  are,  my  dear  !  " 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  WEEK  or  two  after  the  dinner  at  Isleham,  Pem 
broke  sat  in  his  office,  one  afternoon,  at  the  county- 
seat,  with  a  letter  spread  out  before  him.  It  was 
very  thumbed  and  illiterate,  and  quite  devoid  of 
punctuation. 

"  Marse  french,  i  is  in  a  heap  of  truble  marse 
french  an  i  aint  done  nuttin — i  bought  ten  akers 
fum  mr.  Hackett  you  know  mr.  hackett  he  some 
relation  to  dem  Hibbses  he  come  frum  i  donow 
whar  an  he  allus  cussin  de  yankees  an  I  had  done 
pay  him  fur  de  ten  akers  mos  all  i  had  done  got 
married  ter  Jane  you  know  Jane  whar  was  Miss 
livia  Berkeley  maid,  an  mr.  hackett  he  come  an  he 
say  he  was  gwine  take  the  baid  an  he  call  me  a  low 
down  nigger  and  kase  I  arnser  him  he  hit  me  wid 
he  stick  an  marse  french  i  couldn't  help  it  an  he  hit 
Jane  too  an  i  knock  him  down  an  o  marse  french  he 
went  home  an  naix  day  he  die  an  de  sheriff  he  come 
an  put  me  in  jail — i  feerd  dey  gwine  hang  me  like  a 
hound  dog  i  aint  got  no  money  fur  lawyers,  an  mr. 
hackett's  folks  dem  Hibbses  dey  is  engage  all  de 
lawyers  i  dunno  what  i  gwine  do  if  you  doan  cum 
home  to  try  me  marse  french — you  know  i  was  yur 
vally  an  daddy  he  was  ole  marse's  vally,  an  me  an 
you  useter  go  fishin  when  we  was  small  an  ole  marse 


50  THE   BERKELEYS 

useter  lick  bofe  on  us  fur  gittin  drownded  in  de 
crick  i  earn  sleep  at  night,  not  kase  de  bed  is  hard 
an  de  straw  cum  thu  de  tickin  but  kase  i  feerd  dey 
gvvine  ter  hang  me  like  a  hound  dog  de  black  folks 
is  agin  me  kase  mr.  hackett  was  fum  de  norf  an  de 
white  folks  is  agin  me  kase  mr.  hackett  was  white 
o  marse  french  fur  Gord  Amighty's  sake  come  long 
home  and  doan  let  em  hang  me  Jane  she  is  mighty 
poly  an  earn  cum  to  see  me  sum  gentmun  swar  at 
me  you  aint  never  done  it — you  give  me  a  quarter 
evry  time  I  hoi  yo  horse  No  mo  now  from 

"  bob  henry." 

This  letter  had  reached  him  in  Paris,  and  had 
more  to  do  with  bringing  him  home  just  when  he 
came  than  Madame  Koller — much  more  than  Mad 
ame  Roller  expected — or  Olivia,  either,  for  that 
matter. 

"  It  is  a  rather  hard  case,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
with  a  grim  smile,  "  a  man  can't  go  and  say,  '  See 
what  a  disinterested  thing  I  have  done :  come 
home  months  before  I  intended,  to  defend  a  poor 
ragged  black  rascal  that  claimed  to  be  my  "  vally," 
and  expects  to  be  hanged — and  half  the  county 
believes  I  came  in  obedience  to  Madame  Roller.' " 
But  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  done  a  good  deal 
to  make  both  Olivia  Berkeley  and  Madame  Roller 
believe  what  was  not  true  about  his  return. 

He  put  on  his  hat  and,  putting  the  letter  in  his 
pocket,  went  out  and  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
off  at  a  smart  canter  away  from  the  village,  down  a 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  5 1 

little-used  road,  until  he  came  to  a  stretch  of  pine 
woods.  Then,  following  a  bridle  path  a  mile  or 
more,  he  came  upon  a  log  house. 

Everything  had  an  air  of  sylvan  peace  in  the 
quiet  autumn  afternoon.  There  was  nothing  to 
indicate  domestic  life  about  the  place — the  persons 
who  lived  within  had  no  garden,  no  fowls — nothing 
but  the  log  cabin  under  the  pines.  Pembroke 
knocked  loudly  with  the  butt  of  his  riding  whip  at 
the  rude  door,  but  a  voice  a  little  way  off  answered 
him. 

"  Don't  waste  your  strength  on  the  portcullis  of 
the  castle.  Here  I  am." 

Pembroke  followed  the  sound,  leading  his  horse, 
and  in  a  minute  or  two  came  upon  a  man  of  middle 
age,  lying  full  length  on  the  soft  bed  of  pine 
needles,  with  a  book  and  a  pipe. 

"  This  is  peaceful,"  said  Pembroke,  after  tether 
ing  his  horse  and  seating  himself.  "  At  Malvern  it 
is  more  lonely  than  peaceful.  The  house  is  so 
large  and  so  empty — Miles  and  I  live  in  one  wing 
of  it.  It  wasn't  half  a  bad  thing  for  you,  Cave, 
when  the  doctors  ordered  you  to  the  pine  woods." 

Cave  nodded. 

"  It's  uncommonly  quiet  and  peaceful,  this  camp 
ing  out.  As  I  have  no  other  house  to  go  to,  since 
mine  was  burned  down,  it  rather  bridges  over  the 
gulf  of  appearances  to  say  I  am  living  in  a  log 
cabin  by  command  of  the  most  mighty  Dr.  Sam 
Jones." 

"  And  there  is  no  loneliness  like  that  of  a  half 


52  THE   BERKELEYS 

deserted  house,"  continued  Pembroke,  uncon 
sciously  dropping  his  voice  in  sympathy  with  the 
faint  woodland  murmur  around  them.  "  It  seems 
to  me  at  Malvern  that  I  continually  hear  my 
mother's  voice,  and  my  father's  footstep,  and  all 
the  pleasant  family  commotion  I  remember.  And 
Elizabeth — Cave,  no  woman  I  ever  knew  suffered 
like  my  sister — and  she  was  not  the  woman  to 
suffer  patiently.  Old  Keturah  tells  me  that  my 
father  would  have  yielded  at  any  time  after  he 
saw  that  her  heart  and  life  were  bound  up  in 
Waring — but  she  would  not  ask  him — so  while  I 
was  enjoying  myself  three  thousand  miles  away, 
and  only  sad  when  I  came  home  to  Miles,  Elizabeth 
and  my  father  were  fighting  that  dreary  battle. 
Keturah  says  that  everybody  said  she  was  sweetly 
and  gently  patient,  but  all  night  she  would  walk 
the  floor  sobbing  and  weeping,  while  my  father 
below  walked  his  floor.  It  killed  them  both." 

Cave  had  turned  away  his  head.  Who  has 
watched  one,  dearly  loved,  waste  and  die  for 
another,  without  knowing  all  there  is  of  bitterness  ? 
And  was  Pembroke  so  forgetful  ?  He  was  not, 
indeed — but  he  had  begun  telling  of  the  things 
which  troubled  him,  and  because  he  could  bear  to 
speak  of  poor  Elizabeth  he  thought  that  Cave 
could  bear  to  hear  it.  But  there  was  a  pause — a 
pause  in  which  Pembroke  suddenly  felt  ashamed 
and  heartless.  Elizabeth's  death  was  much  to  him — 
but  it  was  everything  to  Cave.  So  Pembroke  con 
tinued,  rather  to  excuse  himself,  "  Your  cabin  in 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  53 

the  woods  is  at  least  not  haunted  by  the  dead  peo 
ple  you  loved.  Sometimes,  when  I  go  into  my 
mother's  room  and  see  everything  as  she  left  it — • 
the  mirror  in  which  I  have  often  seen  her  braid  her 
hair — she  had  scarcely  a  gray  lock  in  it  when  she 
died — I  feel — I  cannot  describe  to  you  what  I 
feel." 

"  You  ought  to  marry,"  remarked  Cave,  in  a  cold, 
quiet  voice. 

"  Not  I,"  answered  Pembroke,  carelessly,  glad  to 
escape  from  the  train  he  had  himself  started.  "  I 
suppose  a  man  ought  to  marry  some  time  or  other 
— but  forty  is  early  enough.  I  wouldn't  mind 
waiting  until  I  were  fifty.  At  sixty  a  man  is  apt  to 
make  an  infernal  fool  of  himself." 

"  How  about  Eliza  Peyton — or  Madame  Roller — 
whom  you  followed  here  ?  " 

Pembroke  had  lighted  a  cigar  since  they  began 
talking,  and  had  disposed  of  himself  comfortably 
on  the  pine  needles  by  the  side  of  his  friend.  The 
silence  was  the  unbroken  silence  of  the  autumn 
woods.  There  was  not  the  faintest  whisper  of 
wind,  but  over  their  heads  the  solemn  trees  leaned 
together  and  rustled  softly.  A  long  pause  came 
after  Cave's  question.  Into  Pembroke's  sunburnt 
face  a  dark  flush  slowly  mounted.  It  is  not  often 
that  a  man  of  his  type,  with  his  iron  jaw  and  strong 
features,  blushes — but  this  was  a  blush  of  conscious 
ness,  though  not  of  shame. 

"  I  did  not  follow  her  here,"  he  said.  "  But  who 
believes  me  ?  I  think  the  woman  herself  fancies 


54  THE   BERKELEYS 

I  did  follow  her.  As  for  that  little  haughty  Olivia 
Berkeley,  the  girl  gives  me  a  look  that  is  equivalent 
to  a  box  on  the  ear  every  time  Madame  Roller 
is  mentioned.  If  ever  I  marry,  I  shan't  take  a 
woman  of  spirit,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  shall 
take  a  placid,  stout  creature.  An  eaglet  like  Oli 
via  Berkeley  is  well  enough  for  a  man  to  amuse 
himself  with — but  for  steady  matrimony  give  me  a 
barnyard  fowl." 

"  God  help  you,"  answered  Cave  piously. 

"  But  what  really  brought  me  here — although  I 
knew  all  the  time  that  I  ought  not  to  be  loitering 
in  Europe,  and  would  probably  have  come  any 
how — was  this  poor  devil,  Bob  Henry,  in  jail, 
charged  with  murdering  Hackett,  that  scalawag 
the  Hibbses  brought  here." 

At  this  Cave  sat  up,  full  of  animation. 

"  I  can  help  the  poor  fellow,  I  think,"  he  said. 
"  I  went  to  see  him  as  soon  as  they  put  him  in  jail 
— a  wretched  looking  object  in  rags  he  was,  too. 
He  seemed  to  put  great  faith  in  you,  and  I  did 
not  tell  him  of  some  evidence  that  I  have  got  hold 
of.  The  fellow's  going  to  get  clear  between  us,  I 
think." 

Pembroke  sat  up  too,  and  took  the  cigar  out  of 
his  mouth.  The  lawyer's  instinct  rose  within  him, 
and  he  took  to  his  profession  like  a  pointer  to  his 
field  work. 

"  You  see,  having  been  away  during  Hackett's 
time,  I  know  nothing  of  his  habits  or  associations 
except  from  hearsay.  Any  lawyer  in  the  county 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  55 

could  do  better  for  poor  Bob  Henry  than  I — in  that 
way." 

"  Hackett,  you  know,  was  a  Northern  man,  who 
came  down  here  and  bought  property  during  the 
war.  He  was  a  rabid  Southerner.  I  distrusted  the 
man  for  that  alone.  He  was  related  to  our  friends, 
the  Hibbses.  I  always  suspected  he  had  something 
to  do  with  that  gang  of  deserters  down  by  the 
river,  and  if  he  was  not  a  spy,  then  John  Cave  is  a 
fool." 

"  Well— what  else?" 

"  Of  course  you  know  about  Bob  Henry's  buying 
the  land  of  him,  and  the  money  he  owed  him,  and 
the  fight.  The  negro,  after  Hackett  had  struck 
him  and  insulted  his  wife,  struck  him  back  with  a 
stick.  Now  the  Hibbses,  and  everybody  else  for 
that  matter,  think  that  blow  killed  him.  You  see, 
among  the  people  Hackett  had  a  kind  of  false 
popularity,  as  a  Northern  man  who  has  espoused 
Southern  sentiments — a  hypocrite,  in  short.  The 
feeling  against  that  poor  black  wretch  was  sav 
age." 

"  So,"  said  Pembroke,  "  instead  of  proving  that 
the  blow  did  kill  Hackett,  the  jury  will  want  it 
proved  that  it  didn't  kill  Hackett." 

"  Exactly." 

"  Hackett,  I  understand,  was  a  convivial  soul. 
It  can  be  proved  that  he  mounted  his  horse,  rode 
home,  and  six  hours  afterward  was  walking  about. 
It  never  seemed  to  occur  to  these  country  doctors 
to  look  for  any  other  injury  than  the  bruise  on  the 


$6  THE   BERKELEYS 

head,  when  they  found  him  as  good  as  dead  next 
morning.  I  hear,  though,  that  people  who  passed 
his  house  at  night  would  often  hear  shouting  and 
carousing.  Now,  who  did  that  shouting  and  carous 
ing?  Not  the  gentlemen  in  the  county,  certainly, 
nor  anybody  else  that  I  can  find  out.  This  fits  in 
with  your  account  of  his  associating  with  deserters. 
I  have  always  had  a  theory  that  he  received  an 
injury  that  killed  him  between  the  time  he  was 
seen  alive  and  apparently  well,  and  when  he  was 
found  dying  in  his  bed." 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  think — and  I  have 
a  witness,  a  ragged  boy,  hereabouts,  whom  I  have 
tried  to  keep  respectable,  who  heard  a  great  noise 
as  of  men  shouting  and  drinking  at  Hackett's  house 
the  night  of  Hackett's  death.  The  boy  was  cold 
and  hungry,  and  although  he  knew  he  would  be 
driven  away  if  caught — for  Hackett  was  a  hard 
hearted  villain — yet  he  sneaked  up  to  the  house 
and  gazed  through  the  half-drawn  curtains  at  the 
men  sitting  around  the  table,  fascinated  as  he  says 
by  the  sight  of  fire  and  food.  He  heard  Hackett 
singing  and  laughing,  and  he  saw  the  faces,  and — 
mark  you, — knows  the  names  of  those  low  fel 
lows,  who  have  never  been  suspected,  and  who 
have  kept  so  remarkably  quiet.  Then,  here  is  the 
point — one  of  the  very  men  who  deserted  from  my 
company,  and  was  very  thick  afterward  with  Hack 
ett,  suddenly  disappeared,  and  within  a  month 
died  of  injuries  he  could  give  no  account  of.  You 
may  depend  upon  it  they  had  a  fight,  and  it  was 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  57 

my  former  companion  in  arms  that  killed  the 
worthy  Hackett — not  poor  Bob  Henry's  blow." 

Pembroke's  dark  eyes  shone. 

"  We'll  keep  this  to  ourselves,  and  make  the 
fellow  hold  his  tongue.  We  won't  give  the  desert 
ers  a  chance  to  concoct  a  plausible  lie.  They  will 
be  certain  to  be  at  the  court  house  when  the  trial 
comes  off,  and  when  I  put  them  in  the  witness  box 
unprepared — you  will  see." 

They  talked  over  the  case  a  half  an  hour  longer 
before  Pembroke  got  up  to  go.  Then  he  said  : 
"  Are  you  going  to  call  at  The  Beeches  ?  You 
must  have  known  Eliza  Koller  before  she  left 
here." 

"  Know  her,"  cried  Cave,  "  yes,  I  know  her.  I 
hope  she  has  improved  in  every  other  way  as  much 
as  she  has  in  looks.  I  saw  her  the  other  day.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  her  hair  was  not  so  violently 
yellow  when  she  went  away  ;  however,  I'll  be  cau 
tious, — I  see  you  are  badly  singed.  Little  Olivia 
Berkeley  wouldn't  do  for  my  lord — " 

Pembroke  got  up  and  flung  off  in  a  passion,  pur 
sued  by  Cave  shouting : 

"  I'll  give  long  odds  on  the  widow  !  " 


58  THE  BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  FEW  Sundays  after  that,  Mr.  Cole's  heart  was 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  Madame  Roller  and 
the  bundle  of  cloaks  and  mufflers  she  called  her 
mamma,  walking  in  church  just  as  the  morning 
service  was  beginning.  The  little  clergyman  felt 
inspired.  He  fancied  himself  like  Paul  before  the 
Athenians.  Olivia  Berkeley  was  there  too,  and  the 
Colonel,  who  settled  himself  in  his  pew  to  catch 
Mr.  Cole  in  a  false  syllogism  or  a  misquotation — any 
thing  to  chaff  the  reverend  gentleman  about  during 
the  coming  week.  Mr.  Cole  did  his  best.  He  laid 
aside  his  manuscript  and  indulged  in  an  extempore 
address  that  warmed  the  orator,  if  not  the  congrega 
tion,  with  something  like  eloquence.  The  Hibbses 
were  there  too — a  florid,  well-dressed  family,  Mr. 
Hibbs  making  the  responses  in  a  basso  so  much 
louder  than  Mr.  Cole's  mild  treble  that  it  seemed 
as  if  Mr.  Hibbs  were  the  parson  and  Mr.  Cole  the 
clerk. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is  my  dear,"  Colonel  Berkeley 
had  said  angrily  to  his  daughter  half  an  hour  before 
when  the  Hibbses  swept  past  them  up  the  flagged 
walk  through  the  churchyard,  "  the  religion  of  these 
infernal  Hibbs  people  is  what  disgusts  me  most. 
They  made  their  money  in  the  war  of  1812.  Up 
to  then  they  were  shouting  Methodists — I've  heard 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  59 

my  father  swear  it  a  hundred  times —  '  The  Colonel 
belonged  to  a  class,  not  uncommon  in  Virginia, 
who  regarded  the  Episcopal  Church  as  a  close  cor 
poration,  and  resented  with  great  pugnacity  any 
attempt  to  enter  it  on  the  part  of  the  great  un 
washed.  It  was  the  vehi:le  chosen  by  the  first 
families  to  go  to  heaven  in,  and  marked  "  Re 
served."  Hence  the  Colonel's  wrath.  His  church 
was  a  church  founded  by  gentlemen,  of  gentlemen, 
and  for  gentlemen,  and  it  was  a  great  liberty  for 
any  other  class  to  seek  that  aristocratic  mode  of 
salvation. 

"  Now,  damme,  the  Hibbses  are  the  greatest 
Episcopalians  in  the  parish.  I  am  as  good  a  church 
man  as  there  is  in  the  county,  but  begad,  if  I  want 
such  a  set  of  vulgarians  worshiping  under  the 
same  roof  and  rubbing  elbows  with  me  when  I  go 
up  to  the  Lord's  table.  I  think  I  gave  that  young 
Hibbs  fellow  a  setback  last  communion  Sunday 
which  will  prevent  him  from  hustling  up  to  the  rail 
before  his  betters." 

By  which  it  will  be  seen  that  Dashaway's  unlucky 
fiasco  and  the  triumph  of  the  long-legged  roan  at 
Campdown  had  not  been  obliterated  from  the 
Colonel's  memory.  During  the  sermon,  Colonel 
Berkeley  only  took  his  eyes  off  the  clergyman  once. 
This  was  when  Mr.  Hibbs  came  around  with  the  col 
lection  plate.  The  object  of  that  day's  collection 
was,  as  Mr.  Cole  had  feelingly  stated,  for  the  conver 
sion  of  the  higher  castes  in  India.  Colonel  Berkeley 
thrust  both  hands  in  his  trousers'  pockets,  and  sur- 


60  THE   BERKELEYS 

veyed  Mr.  Hibbs  defiantly  as  that  worthy  citizen 
poked  the  plate  at  him.  This  duello  between  Mr. 
Hibbs  and  Colonel  Berkeley  occurred  every  collec 
tion  Sunday,  to  the  edification  of  the  congregation. 
After  holding  the  plate  before  the  Colonel  for  a  con 
siderable  time,  Mr.  Hibbs  moved  off — a  time  that 
seemed  interminable  to  Olivia,  blushing  furiously  in 
the  corner  of  the  pew. 

After  church  the  congregation  streamed  out,  and 
according  to  the  country  custom,  the  people  stop 
ped  to  talk  in  the  churchyard.  Colonel  Berkeley 
marched  up  to  Mr.  Cole,  and  put  something  in  his 
hand. 

"  There,  Cole,"  he  remarked,  "  I  wouldn't  put 
anything  in  the  plate  when  that  ruffian  of  a  vestry 
man  of  yours  poked  it  under  my  nose.  But  I 
doubled  my  contribution,  and  I'll  thank  you  to  put 
it  with  the  rest." 

"  Certainly,  Colonel,"  answered  Mr.  Cole — "  but 
Christian  charity — 

"  Christian  charity  be  hanged,  sir.  I'm  a  Chris 
tian  and  a  churchman,  but  I  prefer  Christian  gentle 
men  to  Methodist  upstarts.  Whether  I  go  to 
heaven  or  the  other  place  either,  damme,  I  propose 
to  go  in  good  company." 

"  This  will  go  to  the  missionary  fund  for  India, 
Colonel." 

"Ha!  ha!  I'd  like  to  see  one  of  you  callow 
young  clergymen  tackle  a  Brahmin  in  India.  By 
Jove.  It  would  be  fun — for  the  Brahmin  !  " 

Colonel  Berkeley  had  no  mind  to  let   Mr.  Cole 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  6l 

monopolize  Madam  Roller,  so  just  as  the  clergyman 
stood,  hat  in  hand  bowing  to  her  and  her  mother, 
the  Colonel  marched  up,  and  by  a  skillful  maneuver 
shoveled  the  elder  lady  off  on  Mr.  Cole,  while  he  him 
self  attended  the  younger  one  to  the  carriage.  At 
the  churchyard  gate  was  Olivia  Berkeley  talking 
with  Mrs.  Peyton — and  by  her  side  stood  French 
Pembroke.  Madame  Roller  smiled  charmingly 
at  her  old  acquaintances.  She  was  so  sorry  Miss 
Berkeley  had  not  been  at  home  the  day  she 
called.  Miss  Berkeley  was  politely  regretful.  It 
was  so  sunshiny  and  delightful  that  Madame  Rol 
ler  would  like  to  walk  as  far  as  the  main  road  led 
them  toward  home — it  was  only  across  a  field  or 
two  then,  for  each  of  them  to  reach  home.  Olivia 
also  assented  to  this.  Madame  Roller's  society 
was  far  from  lacking  charm  to  her — and  besides, 
the  attraction  of  repulsion  is  never  stronger  than 
between  two  women  who  cherish  a  smoldering 
spark  of  jealousy. 

Madame  Roller  wanted  the  Colonel  to  come,  and 
brought  her  whole  battery  of  smiles  and  glances 
into  action  to  compel  him — but  he  got  out  of  it 
with  much  astuteness.  He  was  no  walker,  he  said. 
Then  she  turned  to  French  Pembroke. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Peyton  to  Olivia, 
sotto  voce.  "  Don't  be  left  at  the  meeting  of  the 
ways." 

"  No,  I  won't,  I  promise  you,"  replied  Olivia. 

Off  they  started.  Madame  Roller  moved  with  the 
grace  of  a  fairy  in  a  drawing  room,  but  on  a  country 
5 


62  THE   BERKELEYS 

road,  holding  a  sunshade  in  one  hand  and  her  gown 
in  the  other,  it  was  a  promenade  rather  than  a 
walk.  Olivia  walked  with  the  easy  step  of  a  girl 
country  born  and  country  bred,  and  albeit  it  was  a 
little  more  than  a  saunter,  she  soon  walked  Madame 
Koller  out  of  breath. 

Pembroke  had  but  little  share  in  the  conversa 
tion.  Except  a  laughing  reference  to  him  occa 
sionally,  he  was  left  out,  and  had  full  opportunity  to 
compare  the  two  women — which  he  did  with  an 
amused  smile.  Compliments  were  plenty  from 
Madame  Koller,  which  Olivia  deftly  parried  or 
ignored.  In  a  little  while  the  turning  was  in  sight 
where  both  left  the  high  road,  and  a  path  in  one 
direction  led  to  Isleham,  and  in  another,  gave  a 
short  cut  to  The  Beeches.  Pembroke  was  begin 
ning  to  apprehend  an  awkward  predicament  for 
himself  as  to  which  one  of  the  ladies  he  should 
accompany,  when  Olivia  cut  the  knot. 

"  Here  I  must  leave  you — good-bye,  Madam  Kol 
ler,  I  shall  see  you  during  the  week — good-bye — 
to  Pembroke. 

"  There  is  Madame  Koller's  carriage  in  sight," 
remarked  Pembroke,  thinking  that  offered  a  solu 
tion  of  the  problem — to  which  Olivia  only  responded 
pleasantly — "Good-bye — good-bye — "  and  tripped 
off. 

Madame  Koller  looked  rather  foolish — she  had 
been  outgeneraled  completely. 

"  There  is  your  carriage,  again  said  Pembroke, 
this  time  looking  straight  at  her. 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  63 

"Yes.     I  know  it.     You  will  soon  be  rid  of  me." 

As  she  spoke  her  eyes  filled  with  real  tears  of 
mortification.  Pembroke  was  a  man,  and  he  could 
not  see  this,  and  be  as  hard  as  he  meant  to  be. 
Nevertheless,  he  did  not  intend  to  walk  through  the 
field  with  Madame  Roller. 

"  Come,  Elise,"  he  said.  "  The  way  is  too  long 
for  you.  You  are  no  walker.  It  would  be  best  for 
you  to  drive  home." 

"  When  you  call  me  Elise  I  will  do  anything  for 
you,"  she  said — and  she  was  really  tired  and  hated 
walking  for  walking's  sake. 

The  carriage  drew  up,  and  Pembroke  put  her  in 
carefully.  Old  Madame  Schmidt  said  :  "  That  is 
right,  Eliza,"  and  they  drove  off. 

A  few  yards  hid  him  from  their  sight,  and  at  that 
instant  he  struck  out  in  the  path  to  Isleham.  In 
ten  minutes  he  had  overtaken  Olivia. 

She  was  surprised  to  see  him. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Madame  Koller  ?  " 

"  Put  her  in  the  carriage  and  sent  her  home." 

A  faint  flush  crept  into  Olivia's  cheeks. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  ask  you  something  for  a  week 
or  two,"  she  said,  "  but  this  is  my  first  opportunity. 
You  know  that  poor  negro,  Bob  Henry,  who  is  to 
be  tried  for  murder — I  believe  he  belonged  to  you, 
didn't  he?" 

"  Yes." 

"  His  wife  was  my  maid  when  I  was  a  child.  Yes 
terday  she  came  to  see  me — just  out  of  her  bed 
from  a  long  fever.  She  is  naturally  in  great  trouble 


64  THE   BERKELEYS 

about  her  husband,  whom  she  has  not  seen,  the  jail 
being  too  far  off.  She  has  heard  something  about 
your  defending  him  when  he  is  tried,  and  she 
begged  me  to  see  you,  and  ask  you  as  a  mercy  to 
them,  to  '  try  him,'  as  she  says." 

"  That  is  what  brought  me  back  to  America," 
he  replied. 

Olivia  said  not  a  word,  but  walked  on.  She  could 
not  but  believe  him — but  if  he  had  not  come  on 
Madame  Roller's  account,  Madame  Roller  might 
have  come  on  his  account. 

"  I  have  done,  and  I  am  doing,  the  best  I  can  for 
the  poor  fellow.  Cave  has  helped  me  much." 

Then  it  occurred  to  Olivia  that  at  least  Pembroke 
ought  to  get  the  credit  for  coming  on  such  an 
errand. 

"  How  kind  it  was  of  you,"  she  said.  "  I  am  so 
glad— 

"  To  find  I  am  not  such  a  scamp  as  you  thought 
me  ?  "  he  said,  good-naturedly. 

"  Have  it  any  way  you  like,"  she  replied.  "  But 
I  am  very  glad,  and  Jane  will  be  very  glad,  and  I'm 
sure  Bob  Henry  is — and  you  may  come  home  with 
me  and  have  some  luncheon,  and  papa  will  be  very 
glad — he  hates  Sunday  afternoons  in  the  country." 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  65 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MEANWHILE  poor  Mr.  Ahlberg,  condemned  to 
the  solitude  of  the  village  tavern,  varied  by  daily 
visits  to  The  Beeches  and  occasional  ones  to  his 
acquaintances,  the  Pembrokes  and  the  Berkeleys, 
found  life  tedious.  He  wanted  to  get  away,  but 
Madame  Roller  would  not  let  him.  Mr.  Ahlberg 
had  now,  for  some  years,  had  an  eye  to  Madame 
Roller's  fortune.  Therefore,  when  she  commanded 
him  to  stay,  he  stayed.  He  regarded  her  infatua 
tion  for  Pembroke  as  a  kind  of  temporary  insanity, 
which  would  in  time  be  cured,  and  that  he  would 
be  the  physician  and  would  marry  his  patient 
afterward. 

As  for  Madame  Roller,  she  was  wretched,  anx 
ious,  everything  but  bored.  That  she  was  not — 
she  was  too  miserable.  Like  Ahlberg,  she  thought 
herself  almost  a  lunatic.  Hers  was  not  the  folly  of 
a  guileless  girl,  but  the  deep-seated  and  unspeak 
able  folly  of  a  matured  woman.  When  M.  Roller 
died  she  had  regarded  herself  as  one  of  the  most 
fortunate  women  in  the  world.  Still  young,  rich, 
pretty,  what  more  could  she  ask  ?  The  world  had 
almost  forgotten,  if  it  ever  knew,  that  she  had  had  a 
stage  career,  when  stage  careers  were  not  the  most 
desirable  things  in  the  world.  She  had  done  her 
duty  as  well  as  she  knew  it  by  the  dead  and  gone 


66  THE   BERKELEYS 

Roller,  who,  in  consideration  of  leaving  her  a  com 
fortable  fortune,  had  made  her  life  a  torment  upon 
earth.  Just  when  she  was  preparing  to  enjoy  her 
liberty  she  had  found  herself  enslaved  by  her  own 
act  as  it  were.  Sometimes  she  asked  herself  con 
temptuously  what  Pembroke  could  give  her  if  she 
married  him,  in  exchange  for  liberty  which  she 
prized,  and  answered  herself  with  the  wisdom  of 
the  world.  Again  she  reasoned  with  herself  and 
got  for  answer  the  wildest  folly  a  girl  of  sixteen 
could  imagine.  With  him  was  everything — with 
out  him  was  nothing.  And  his  indifference  piqued 
her.  She  truly  believed  him  quite  callous  to  any 
woman,  and  she  had  often  heard  him  say  that  he 
had  no  intention  of  marrying.  Pembroke,  returning 
to  the  life  of  a  country  gentleman  after  four  years' 
campaigning,  followed  by  a  time  of  thoughtless 
pleasure,  mixed  with  the  pain  of  defeat,  of  the 
misery  of  seeing  Miles  forever  wretched,  broken 
in  fortune,  though  not  in  spirit,  found  Madame 
Keller's  society  quite  fascinating  enough.  But  he 
was  not  so  far  gone  that  he  did  not  see  the  abyss 
before  him.  On  the  one  hand  was  money  and 
luxury  and  pleasure  and  idleness  and  Madame 
Roller,  with  her  blonde  hair  and  her  studied 
graces  and  her  dramatic  singing — and  on  the  other 
was  work  and  perhaps  poverty,  and  a  dull  provin 
cial  existence.  But  then  he  would  be  a  man — and 
if  he  married  Madame  Roller  he  would  not  be  a 
man.  It  is  no  man's  part  to  live  solely  for  any 
woman,  and  nobody  knew  that  better  than  French 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  6/ 

Pembroke.  Of  course,  he  knew  that  he  could 
marry  her — the  love-making,  such  as  it  was,  had 
been  chiefly  on  the  lady's  part.  He  was  angry  be 
yond  measure  with  her  when  she  appeared  upon  the 
scene.  He  wished  to  try  life  without  Madame  Kol- 
ler.  But  when  she  came  she  certainly  drew  him 
often  to  The  Beeches.  There  was  but  one  other 
woman  in  the  county  who  really  interested  him. 
This  was  Olivia  Berkeley,  and  she  was  uncertain 
and  hard  to  please.  It  was  undeniably  pleasant  to 
ride  over  to  The  Beeches  on  winter  afternoons  and 
find  Madame  Koller  in  a  cosy  sitting  room  before 
a  wood  fire,  and  to  have  her  read  to  him  and  sing 
to  him.  Sometimes  he  wondered  how  he  ever 
came  away  unpledged.  Again,  he  faintly  blamed 
himself  for  going — but  if  he  remained  away  Mad 
ame  Koller  sent  for  him  and  reproached  him  bit 
terly.  She  knew  quite  as  much  of  the  world  as  he 
did — and  he  was  no  mean  proficient — and  was  two 
or  three  years  older  than  he  besides.  But  it  was  an 
unsatisfactory  existence  to  him.  He  felt  when  he 
went  from  Madame  Roller's  presence  into  Olivia's 
like  going  from  a  ball  room  out  into  the  clear 
moonlit  night.  To  be  on  his  guard  always  against 
a  woman,  to  try  and  make  the  best  of  an  anom 
alous  condition,  was  offensive  to  his  naturally 
straightforward  mind.  It  relieved  him  to  be  with 
Olivia,  even  though  occasionally  she  treated  him 
cavalierly.  This  last  he  positively  relished  as  a 
luxury. 

Ahlberg  he  hated.     Yet  they  were  scrupulously 


68  THE  BERKELEYS 

polite  to  each  other,  and  Ahlberg  occasionally 
dined  with  him  at  Malvern. 

One  day  he  met  Ahlberg  in  the  road  near  the 
village.  Ahlberg  had  a  gun  and  a  full  game-bag 
slung  over  his  shoulder. 

"  You  have  had  good  luck,"  said  Pembroke. 

"  Very,"  answered  Ahlberg,  with  his  peculiar 
smile.  "  I  saw  nothing  to  shoot,  but  I  met  two 
blacks,  and  for  a  trifle  I  bought  all  this.  I  am  not 
a  sportsman  like  you.  I  go  for  a  walk — I  take  my 
gun.  I  want  a  few  birds  for  an  entree.  It  matters 
very  little  where  I  get  them." 

"  What  we  call  a  pot  hunter,"  remarked  Pem 
broke,  laughing  at  what  he  considered  great  sim 
plicity  on  Ahlberg's  part.  For  his  own  part,  his 
instincts  of  sport  made  him  consider  Ahlberg's 
method  of  securing  an  entree  as  but  little  better 
than  sheep  stealing.  Ahlberg  did  not  quite  take 
in  what  manner  of  sport  pot  hunting  was,  nor  the 
contumely  visited  upon  a  pot  hunter,  and  so  was 
not  offended. 

"  Will  you  not  come  to  The  Beeches  to-morrow 
evening  and  dine  with  us  on  these  birds  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  This  is  my  party,  not  Elise's,  who  is  ill  with  a  dis 
tressing  cold.  I  have  asked  the  Reverend  Cole  too, 
and  Hibbs  and  some  others,  and  we  will  have  a 
"  jollitime  "  as  you  Americans  and  English  say." 

Pembroke  agreed,  he  scarcely  knew  why,  partic 
ularly  as  he  seldom  dined  at  The  Beeches,  and 
never  before  at  Ahlberg's  invitation. 

Next  evening  therefore  with  Mr.  Cole  and  Mr. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  69 

Hibbs  and  young  Peyton  and  two  or  three  others 
Pembroke  found  himself  in  the  great,  gloomy  din 
ing  room  at  The  Beeches.  Neither  Madame  Roller 
nor  Madame  Schmidt  were  present.  The  cold  was 
a  real  cold.  Madame  Koller  was  on  the  sofa  in  her 
sitting  room,  and  if  she  felt  strong  enough,  sent 
word  to  the  guests  she  would  see  them  in  the 
drawing  room  later  on.  The  round  table  though, 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  looked  cheerful  enough, 
and  on  the  sideboard  was  an  array  of  long-necked 
bottles  such  as  Pembroke  had  never  seen  for  so 
small  a  party. 

Ahlberg  was  an  accomplished  diner  out — but  that 
is  something  different  from  a  good  diner  at  home. 
He  was  graceful  and  attentive,  but  he  lacked  alto 
gether  the  Anglo-Saxon  good  fellowship.  He 
tucked  a  napkin  under  his  chin,  discussed  m£nus 
with  much  gravity,  and  referred  too  often  to  Hans, 
a  nondescript  person  whom  Madame  Koller  had 
brought  from  Vienna,  and  who  was  cook,  butler, 
major-domo  and  valet  in  one — and  highly  accom 
plished  in  all.  Pembroke  was  rather  disgusted  with 
too  much  conversation  of  this  sort  : 

"  Hans,  you  are  too  pronounced  with  your 
truffles.  There  should  be  a  hint — a  mere  suspi 
cion — 

"  Yes,  monsieur.  But  madame  likes  truffles. 
Every  day  it  is  '  Hans,  you  are  too  sparing  of  your 
truffles.'  " 

"  This  salmi  is  really  charming.  Hans,  I  shall 
put  it  down  in  my  note  book." 


70  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  I  can  give  monsieur  admirable  salmis  of  pigeons 
as  well  as  duck." 

Pembroke,  impelled  by  a  spirit  of  perverseness, 
declined  everything  Ahlberg  and  Hans  united  in 
praising,  and  confined  himself  solely  to  port,  a 
wine  he  did  not  much  care  for,  and  which  both 
Ahlberg  and  Hans  reprobated  in  the  strongest 
terms. 

Not  so  Mr.  Cole.  He  went  religiously  through 
the  menu,  praising  and  exclaiming,  and  keeping  up 
a  fusillade  of  compliments  like  the  chorus  in  a 
Greek  play.  Nor  did  he  forget  the  long-necked 
bottles.  At  first  he  positively  declined  anything 
but  claret.  But  obeying  a  look  from  Ahlberg, 
Hans  filled  the  clergyman's  glass  with  champagne. 
Mr.  Cole  laughed  and  blushed,  but  on  being  good 
naturedly  rallied  by  his  companions,  especially  Mr. 
Hibbs,  he  consented  to  one — only  one  glass.  But 
this  was  followed  by  a  second,  poured  out  when 
Mr.  Cole  was  looking  another  way — and  presently 
as  Hans  by  degrees  slyly  filled  the  half  dozen  wine 
glasses  at  his  plate,  Mr.  Cole  began  with  an  air  of 
perfect  unconsciousness  to  taste  them  all.  Soon 
his  face  flushed,  and  by  the  time  the  dinner  was 
half  over,  Mr.  Cole  was  half  over  the  line  of  modera 
tion  too.  He  became  convivial,  and  even  affection 
ate.  Pembroke,  who  had  looked  on  the  little 
clergyman's  first  glass  of  champagne  with  a  smile, 
began  to  feel  sorry  for  him,  and  a  very  profound 
contempt  for  his  entertainer.  Hans  and  his 
pseudo-master  evidently  understood  each  other,  and 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  7 1 

exchanged  glances  oftener  than  master  and  man 
usually  do.  As  the  clergyman  became  more  free  in 
his  talk,  Ahlberg  looked  at  Pembroke  with  a  foxy 
smile,  but  received  only  a  cool  stare  in  return. 
Pembroke  was  a  jolly  companion  enough,  but  this 
deliberately  making  a  gentleman,  weak  as  he  might 
be,  but  still  a  gentleman,  drunk  in  a  woman's  house 
struck  him  as  not  the  most  amusing  thing  in  the 
world.  Ahlberg,  however,  seemed  to  enjoy  the 
state  of  affairs,  and  though  he  had  no  sympathy 
from  Pembroke  or  young  Peyton,  Mr.  Hibbs  and 
one  or  two  others  appreciated  it  highly. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Cole,"  he  cried,  "  you  know  how  to 
dine,  I  see  you  do.  You  would  not  discredit  the 
Trois  Freres  itself.  Hans,  more  Chablis." 

Poor  Cole's  eyes  twinkled.  He  loved  to  be 
thought  a  man  of  the  world. 

"Couldn't  you  give  us  a  song,  Mr.  Cole?"  con 
tinued  Ahlberg,  laughing,  "  English  and  American 
fashion,  you  know.  Something  about  wine  and 
mirth." 

Mr.  Cole  smiled  coquettishly,  and  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  Perhaps  I  might  try  '  The  Heart  Bowed  Down 
With  Weight  of  Woe,'  "  said  he. 

"  Yes — yes — " 

"  Or,  '  Then  You'll  Remember  Me.'  That's  more 
sentimental — more  suited  for  the  occasion." 

"'Then  You'll  Remember  Me/  by  all  means. 
Gentlemen,  a  chorus." 

Mr.  Cole,  placing  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  after 


72  THE   BERKELEYS 

having  drained  another  glass  of  champagne,  began 
in  a  weak  and  rather  shaky  voice, 

"  '  When  other  lips  and  other  hearts 
Their  tales  of  love  shall  tell.' 

"  Gentlemen,  I'm  not  in  good  voice  to-night. 

"  '  In  language  whose  excess  imparts 

The  power  they  feel  so  well ; 
When  hollow  hearts  shall  wear  a  mask,' 

"  Here,  Hans,  old  boy,  I'll  take  another  glass  of 
Chablis — 

M  '  'Twill  break  your  own  to  see, 

In  such  a  moment  I  but  a — a — a — sk 
That  you'll  remember  me.'  " 

Here  a  tremendous  chorus,  led  by  Mr.  Ahlberg, 
broke  in,  accompanied  with  much  pounding  on  the 
table,  and  a  rhythmic  jingling  of  glasses  : 

"  Then  you'll  remember  me,  boys, 
Then  you'll  remember  me." 

Mr.  Cole,  very  much  annoyed  and  preposterously 
dignified,  began  to  protest. 

"  Gentlemen — er — beloved  brethren,  I  mean  gen 
tlemen,  this  song  is  a  sentimental  one — a  senti 
mental  song,  d'ye  hear — and  does  not  admit  of  a 
convivial  chorus.  Now,  I'll  give  you  the  last  verse 
over." 

Mr.  Cole,  looking  lackadaisically  at  the  ceiling, 
began  again.  When  he  reached  the  last  line,  again 
an  uproarious  chorus  took  the  words  out  of  his 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  73 

mouth.  He  rose,  and  steadying  himself  on  his  feet, 
implored  silence  in  pantomime.  In  vain.  Ahlberg 
and  Hibbs  with  shouts  and  yells  of  laughter  car 
ried  the  chorus  through.  Pembroke  could  not  but 
laugh,  but  he  said  to  the  little  clergyman,  in  a  tone 
subdued  but  authoritative: 

"  Sit  down,  Cole." 

Mr.  Cole  glanced  fiercely  at  him.  "  Were  it 
not  for  my  cloth,  sir,  you — you'd — receive  per 
sonal  chastisement  for  that  remark,"  he  responded 
angrily;  but  comparing  his  own  slender  figure  with 
Pembroke's  length  and  strength,  he  plaintively  con 
tinued  : 

"  But  I'm  afraid  you  could  lick  me,  Pembroke. 
You  always  did  at  school,  you  know." 

Pembroke  made  no  reply.  He  was  no  anchorite. 
He  had  sometimes  found  amusement  in  low  com 
pany  in  low  places — but  low  company  in  better 
places  disgusted  him.  Besides,  Cole  was  an  honest 
little  fellow,  and  not  half  such  a  fool  as  he  appeared 
— and  he  had  a  conscience,  and  Pembroke  began 
to  feel  sorry  already  for  the  pain  poor  Cole  would 
have  to  endure. 

But  Cole  was  not  the  only  subject  of  amusement. 
Ahlberg,  now  that  his  dinner  was  over,  considered 
conversation  in  order — and  began  to  give  his  views 
on  things  in  general,  upon  which  young  Hibbs  and 
young  Peyton  and  the  others  hung  with  delight. 
Pembroke  therefore  thinking  it  well  to  get  Cole  out 
of  the  way  while  he  could  yet  walk,  suggested  that 
he  should  escape  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air — to  which 


74  THE   BERKELEYS 

Cole  assented,  and  might  have  slipped  out  un 
noticed,  but  for  his  assumption  of  a  lofty  stride, 
which  would  have  landed  him  on  the  floor  but  for 
a  timely  arm  from  Hans. 

The  fun  grew  fast  and  furious,  and  everybody  at 
the  table  was  flushed  except  Ahlberg  and  Pem 
broke.  Ahlberg  drank  as  much  as  anybody,  but 
his  delicate  hand  was  as  steady,  and  his  cold  blue 
eyes  as  clear  as  if  it  had  been  water  from  the  well 
he  was  drinking.  Pembroke  did  not  drink  much 
and  remained  cool  and  smiling. 

After  an  hour  or  two  had  passed,  he  began  to 
be  intensely  bored  by  Mr.  Hibbs'  songs,  who  now 
became  the  minstrel,  Ahlberg's  long  stories  and 
young  Peyton's  jokes — and  besides  he  wondered  at 
Mr.  Cole's  absence.  So  in  the  midst  of  a  lively  dis 
cussion,  he  quietly  left  his  seat  and  went  out. 

In  the  hall  several  doors  opened— but  from  the 
drawing  room  door  .came  a  flood  of  light,  and 
voices.  He  heard  Madame  Keller's  somewhat 
shrill  tones  saying: 

"  But  Mr.  Cole,  I  cannot  marry  you — fancy 
me — 

"  Darling  Eliza,"  cried  Mr.  Cole,  in  a  maudlin, 
tipsy  voice.  "  I  know  you  love  me.  Your  par 
tiality—" 

Pembroke  made  two  strides  to  the  door.  Just 
as  he  reached  it,  he  saw  a  tableau.  Mr.  Cole,  whose 
head  just  reached  to  Madame  Koller's  shoulder, 
had  seized  her  by  the  waist  and  was  saying : 

"  One  kiss — only  one,  my  darling !  " 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  75 

Madame  Roller  raised  her  hand — it  was  large 
and  strong  and  white — and  brought  it  down  upon 
the  clergyman's  cheek  with  a  thundering  whack 
that  would  have  knocked  him  down,  but  for  an 
other  slap  she  administered  on  the  other  side. 
Pembroke  had  not  been  in  time  to  save  him,  but 
he  caught  Cole  by  the  collar,  and  picking  him  up 
as  if  he  had  been  a  baby,  set  him  out  of  the  way. 

Madame  Koller  was  raging.  She  stamped  her 
foot  and  clinched  her  hands  and  ground  her  teeth 
with  passion. 

"  Come,  Madame  Koller,"  said  Pembroke,  sternly, 
"  there  is  no  occasion  for  this  sort  of  thing.  The  lit 
tle  fool  is  tipsy — of  course  you  see  it.  You  ought 
not  to  have  had  anything  to  say  to  him." 

But  Madame  Koller  would  not  be  pacified.  It 
was  not  the  liberty  he  had  tried  to  take  which  most 
infuriated  her,  she  inadvertently  declared,  but  the 
idea  that  she,  Elise  Koller,  would  marry  a  country 
parson.  She  raved.  What !  She,  Elise  Koller, 
born  a  Peyton,  should  condescend  to  that  ridicu 
lous  person  ?  What  would  her  aunt,  Sally  Peyton, 
say  to  it  ?  What  would  the  shade  of  the  departed 
Koller  say  to  it  ?  She  had  been  civil  to  him,  and 
forsooth,  he  had  come,  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and 
proposed  to  marry  her — her,  who  might  have  mar 
ried  a  duke — a  prince — anybody.  Madame  Koller 
was  very  mad,  and  used  just  the  extravagant  and 
hysterical  language  that  people  of  her  type  do 
sometimes. 

As  for  Mr.  Cole,  those  two  slaps  had  sobered  him 


76  THE  BERKELEYS 

as  instantly  and  as  completely  as  anything  could. 
He  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  sofa,  while  Pembroke 
with  a  half  smile  of  contempt  in  his  face  that  really 
exasperated  Madame  Koller  more  than  poor  Cole 
had  done,  listened  to  her  tirade.  What  a  virago 
the  woman  was,  to  be  sure.  But  how  handsome 
she  was  too ! 

"  Pembroke,"  said  poor  Cole,  rising  and  coming 
forward,  looking  quite  pale  and  desperate,  "  don't 
try  to  excuse  me.  I  don't  deserve  any  excuse.  I 
mean  to  write  to  the  bishop  to-morrow  and  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it — and  any  punishment  he  may 
inflict,  or  any  mortification  I  may  have  to  endure 
because  of  this,  I'll  take  like  a  man.  Madame 
Koller,  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon.  I  hardly  knew 
what  I  was  doing." 

"  To  get  drunk  in  my  house,"  was  Madame 
Roller's  reply. 

"  Hardly  that,"  said  Pembroke,  quietly.  "  Made 
drunk  by  your  precious  cousin,  Ahlberg." 

"  I'll  send  Louis  away  if  you  desire  me,"  cried 
Madame  Koller,  eagerly. 

"  I  desire  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  is  no  affair  of 
mine.  Come,  Cole,  you've  done  the  best  you  could 
by  apologizing.  I'll  see  that  those  fellows  say  noth 
ing  about  it.  Good  evening,  Madame  Koller." 

"  Must  you  go,  Pembroke — now — 

"  Immediately.  Good-bye,"  and  in  two  minutes 
he  and  Cole  were  out  of  the  house. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  77 


CHAPTER  VII. 

To  say  that  Pembroke  was  angry  with  Cole  is 
hardly  putting  it  strong  enough.  He  ardently 
longed  that  he  might  once  again  inflict  a  thrashing 
upon  him  like  those  Cole  had  been  wont  to  receive 
in  his  school  days.  He  had  taken  the  little  clergy 
man  to  Malvern,  and  kept  him  a  day  or  two  before 
sending  him  home  to  his  mother.  Cole's  remorse 
was  pitiful.  He  wanted  to  write  to  the  whole  House 
of  Bishops,  to  make  a  public  reparation,  to  do  a 
number  of  quixotic  things  which  Pembroke's  strong 
sense  forbade  peremptorily.  When  after  two  days 
of  sincere,  but  vociferous  penitence,  Mr.  Cole  was 
at  last  sent  back  to  his  rectory,  he  went  under  strict 
instructions  from  Pembroke  to  keep  his  misfortune 
to  himself.  But  alas  for  poor  Cole !  What  stung 
him  most  was  that  Madame  Roller  should  have 
seen  him  in  that  condition — for  the  two  hard  slaps 
that  she  had  given  him  had  by  no  means  cured  his 
infatuation.  On  the  contrary,  her  strong  nerves,  her 
fierce  temper,  her  very  recklessness  of  convention 
ality,  irresistibly  attracted  his  timid  and  conserva 
tive  nature.  What  had  offended  Pembroke,  who 
looked  for  a  certain  feminine  restraint  in  all  women, 
and  gentleness,  even  in  daring,  had  charmed  Cole. 
His  anguish,  when  he  found,  that  in  addition  to 

his  paroxysm  of  shame,  he  suffered  tortures  because 
6 


78  THE   BERKELEYS 

he  could  no  longer  see  Madame  Koller,  almost 
frightened  him  into  convulsions. 

Pembroke  had  meant  to  be  very  prudent  with  Ahl- 
berg,  and  particularly  to  avoid  anything  like  a  dis 
pute.  He  felt  that  the  natural  antagonism  between 
them  would  be  likely  to  produce  a  quarrel  unless 
he  were  remarkably  careful,  and  as  he  regarded 
Ahlberg  with  great  contempt,  he  had  a  firm  deter 
mination  never  to  give  him  either  cause  or  chance 
of  offense.  According  to  the  tradition  in  which  he 
had  been  raised,  a  quarrel  between  two  men  was 
liable  to  but  one  outcome — an  archaic  one,  it  is 
true,  but  one  which  made  men  extremely  cautious 
and  careful  not  to  offend.  If  a  blow  once  passed  it 
became  a  tragedy.  Pembroke  promised  himself 
prudence,  knowing  that  he  had  not  the  coolest 
temper  in  the  world.  But  when,  some  days  after 
the  dinner,  they  met,  this  time  in  the  road  also,  and 
Ahlberg's  first  remark  was  "  What  capital  fun  we 
had  with  our  friend  Cole  !  "  Pembroke's  temper 
instantly  got  the  better  of  him. 

"  Mr.  Ahlberg,  do  you  think  it  quite  a  gentle 
manly  thing  to  invite  a  man  like  Cole  to  accept 
your  hospitality  in  a  woman's  house,  and  then 
deliberately  to  make  him  drunk?  "  asked  he. 

Ahlberg's  sallow  skin  grew  a  little  paler. 

"  Is  that  your  view  ? "  he  asked,  coolly.  "  I 
understand  something  occurred  with  Madame  Kol 
ler,  which  you  naturally  resent." 

As  Ahlberg's  face  grew  whiter,  Pembroke's  grew 
redder.  He  felt  that  first  savage  impulse  to  seize 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  79 

Ahlberg  and  shake  him  as  a  mastiff  would  a  terrier. 
He  stood  still  for  a  moment  or  two  and  then  step 
ping  up  close  to  Ahlberg,  said  to  him  :  "  You  are 
a  scoundrel." 

Ahlberg  grew  perfectly  rigid.  This  blunt,  Anglo- 
Saxon  way  of  picking  a  quarrel  amazed  him.  He 
brought  his  heels  together,  and  stood  up  very  erect, 
in  the  first  position  of  dancing,  and  said  : 

"  This  is  most  extraordinary.  Does  Monsieur 
know  that  but  one  result  can  follow  this?  " 

"  Anything  you  please,"  answered  Pembroke, 
carelessly,  "  but  if  you  force  me  to  fight  I  will  cer 
tainly  kill  you.  You  know  something  of  my  pistol 
practice." 

Ahlberg  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  drawing 
up  his  sleeve,  exposed  a  great  red  knot  on  his  right 
arm. 

"  If  I  desired  to  take  advantage  of  you  I  might 
say  that  you  knew  my  pistol  arm  was  disabled.  I 
got  this  six  months  ago — and  it  will  be  six  months 
more  before  it  is  well.  The  paralysis  is  still  partial. 
But  as  soon  as  I  can  trust  it,  you  will  hear  from 
me." 

"  By  all  means,"  answered  Pembroke. 

Then  they  touched  their  hats  ceremoniously, 
and  went  their  way,  Pembroke  plunging  through 
the  brushwood  on  the  side  of  the  road  with  his  dog 
at  his  heels. 

Pembroke  never  despised  himself  more  than  at 
that  moment.  Here  was  he  involved  in  a  quar 
rel  with  a  man  for  whom  he  felt  a  thorough  con- 


8O  THE   BERKELEYS 

tempt  in  every  respect,  and  against  which  he  had 
particularly  warned  himself. 

As  to  the  method  of  settling  the  trouble  proposed, 
that  his  own  good  sense  condemned,  albeit  it  was 
still  in  vogue  in  Virginia.  In  the  heat  of  anger  he 
had  promised  Ahlberg  to  kill  him — while  he,  Pem 
broke,  knew  in  his  heart,  that  certainly  nothing  Ahl 
berg  could  say  or  do,  would  make  him  deliberately 
carry  out  any  such  intention.  But  the  folly,  wicked 
ness,  petulance,  want  of  self-command  that  brought 
the  quarrel  about,  enraged  him  more  with  himself 
than  with  Ahlberg.  He  could  imagine  Cave's  cool 
and  cutting  disapproval — Colonel  Berkeley's  uproar 
ious  and  vociferous  protest.  He  knew  his  own  folly 
in  the  case  so  well,  that  he  fancied  everybody  else 
must  know  it  too.  At  all  events,  the  trouble  was 
postponed,  and  he  felt  prepared  to  do  a  great  deal, 
even  to  the  extent  of  apologizing  to  Ahlberg,  rather 
than  fight  him.  And  then  Elise.  What  a  creature 
she  was  to  be  sure — singing  to  him  to  charm  him, 
and  declaiming  poetry  like  the  tragic  muse — and 
then  that  scene  with  Cole,  at  which  the  recollection 
even  made  him  shudder  and  laugh  too.  Why 
couldn't  he  fall  thoroughly  in  love  with  Olivia  Berke 
ley?  Probably  she  would  refuse  him  tartly,  but  at 
least  it  would  rid  him  of  Madame  Koller,  and  it 
would  be  a  bracing,  healthy  experience.  He  had  half 
a  mind  to  go  back  and  suggest  to  Ahlberg  that  they 
observe  their  usual  terms  toward  each  other  until 
the  time  came  that  Ahlberg  might  demand  satis 
faction.  A  strained  demeanor  would  be  peculiarly 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  8 1 

unpleasant,  considering  the  way  the  people  at  The 
Beeches  and  the  Berkeleys  and  Miles  and  himself 
were  associated.  But  he  reflected  that  Ahlberg 
was  a  man  of  the  world,  and  would  probably  let 
things  go  on  smoothly,  anyhow.  It  turned  out  he 
was  correct,  as  the  next  time  they  met,  Ahlberg's 
manner  was  imperturbable,  and  the  cold  politeness 
which  had  always  existed  between  the  two  men 
was  not  visibly  changed. 

Walking  along,  and  cutting  viciously  with  his 
stick  at  the  harmless  bushes  in  the  path  on  this  par 
ticular  day,  he  soon  found  himself  near  the  fence 
that  ran  around  the  lawn  at  Isleham.  He  con 
cluded  he  would  go  in  and  see  the  Berkeleys  for  half 
an  hour.  It  would  be  a  refreshing  change  from 
Madame  Koller  and  Ahlberg  to  Olivia's  pure,  bright 
face  and  the  Colonel's  jovial,  wholesome  chaff.  It 
was  a  mild,  spring-like  day  in  early  winter.  The 
path  led  to  the  lawn  through  the  old-fashioned  gar 
den,  where  everything  was  brown  and  sere  except 
the  box  hedge  that  stiffly  bordered  the  straight, 
broad  path  that  led  through  the  garden.  He  re 
membered  having  heard  Miles  at  breakfast  say 
something  about  going  over  to  Isleham,  and  was 
therefore  not  surprised  to  see  him  walking  up  and 
down  the  path  with  Olivia.  She  had  a  book  in  her 
hand  and  was  reading  in  her  low,  clear  voice,  aloud 
to  him  as  they  walked  slowly,  and  Miles  was  fol 
lowing  what  she  read  closely,  occasionally  stopping 
to  ask  a  question  and  looking  quite  cheerful  and 
interested.  It  came  back  to  him  that  Miles  had 


82  THE   BERKELEYS 

spoken  of  Olivia  and  himself  taking  up  Italian 
together.  From  her  manner,  and  from  the  expres 
sion  on  her  charming  face  in  its  little  black  velvet 
hood,  he  saw  she  was  doing  it  for  Miles'  sake. 
He  loved  that  younger  brother  as  well  as  one 
human  being  ever  loved  another.  To  have  saved 
the  boy  one  pang  he  would  have  done  much — but 
he  could  do  so  little !  Miles  was  no  longer  fit  for 
field  sports,  society  he  shunned,  reading  he  could 
do  for  himself.  Pembroke  felt  every  day  the  mas 
culine  inability  to  console.  Yet  here  was  this  girl 
who  had  found  something  to  interest  poor  little 
Miles,  and  was  doing  it  with  the  sweetest  womanli 
ness  in  the  world.  She  probably  cared  nothing  for 
Italian,  but  Miles  was  fond  of  it. 

"  Wait,"  said  Olivia,  with  authority,  as  he  came 
up.  "  Don't  speak  a  word.  I  must  let  you  see 
how  well  I  can  read  this,"  and  she  read  a  stanza 
correctly  enough. 

"  That  will  do,"  remarked  Pembroke,  who  knew 
something  of  Italian,  "  you  were  wise  to  choose  that 
Francesca  da  Rimini  story  though.  It  is  the  easiest 
part  in  the  whole  book." 

Olivia  slammed  the  volume  together  indignantly, 
and  drew  down  her  pretty  brows  in  a  frown. 

"  You  and  papa  are  always  laughing  at  us.  Never 
mind  Miles,  /don't  mind  them  I  assure  you." 

Pembroke  went  in  and  remained  to  luncheon,  as 
did  Miles.  The  Colonel  was  in  great  spirits.  He 
had  had  a  brush  on  the  road  with  Mrs.  Peyton,  and 
had  been  over  to  The  Beeches. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  83 

"  And  by  the  way,  Pembroke,  what's  this  I  hear 
about  poor  Cole  getting  as  tight  as  Bacchus  the 
other  night  at  The  Beeches  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  answered  Pembroke.  He  did 
not  mean  to  say  anything  about  Ahlberg's  share 
in  it,  considering  the  relations  between  them,  but 
the  Colonel  was  too  sharp  for  him. 

"  Now,  Cole  wouldn't  go  and  do  a  thing  like  that 
unless  he  was  put  up  to  it.  Didn't  our  friend 
with  the  waxed  mustache  have  something  to  do 
with  it,  eh?  Oh,  yes,  I  see  he  did." 

Pembroke  smiled  at  the  way  Colonel  Berkeley 
read  his  face.  Olivia  spoke  up  with  spirit. 

"  Papa,  I  hate  that  Mr.  Ahlberg.  Pray  don't 
have  him  here  any  more." 

But  the  Colonel  looked  quite  crestfallen  at  this. 
Ahlberg  amused  him,  and  life  was  very,  very  dull 
for  him. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  insist  on  that,  my  dear,"  he 
said,  and  Olivia  answered  : 

"  I  can't  when  you  look  that  way." 

Much  relieved,  the  Colonel  began  again.  "  And 
Madame  Koller,  I  hear — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Papa ! " 

The  note  of  dreadful  warning  in  Olivia's  voice 
vexed  Pembroke.  But  he  could  not  explain  and 
she  would  not  understand. 

Afterward,  the  two  brothers  walking  along 
briskly  toward  home,  Miles  said : 

"  Do  you  know  I  believe  Ahlberg  is  making  love 
to  Olivia  on  the  sly  !" 


84  THE   BERKELEYS 

Pembroke  felt  an  infinite  disgust  at  this — Ahlberg 
with  his  waxed  mustache,  and  his  napkin  tucked 
in  his  waistcoat,  and  his  salmis  and  his  truffles, 
making  love  to  Olivia  Berkeley  ! 

"  He  doesn't  want  Madame  Roller  to  know  it, 
though,  I'll  warrant,"  continued  Miles.  "  Anybody 
can  see  his  game  there." 

"  If  he  asks  Olivia  to  marry  him  there  will  be 
another  ear-boxing  episode  in  this  neighborhood," 
said  Pembroke  with  a  short  laugh. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  8$ 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

POOR  Bob  Henry,  shut  up  in  the  county  jail, 
had  indeed  said  aright  when  he  wrote  Pembroke 
that  both  blacks  and  whites  were  "  agin  him." 
Pembroke  could  scarcely  find  one  of  the  negro 
race  to  testify  to  Bob  Henry's  previous  good  char 
acter — and  as  he  sifted  his  own  evidence  and  sur 
mised  the  State's,  he  saw  that  but  for  the  witness 
Cave  had  ferreted  out,  things  would  indeed  have 
looked  black  for  Bob  Henry.  At  that  time  the 
apprehension  as  to  the  way  the  negroes  in  their 
freedom  would  behave  toward  the  whites  was  as 
yet  sinister,  and  the  Hibbses,  whose  relative  the 
dead  man  was,  worked  up  the  feeling  against  his 
supposed  murderer  with  considerable  astuteness. 
They  were  among  the  largest  subscribers  to  Mr. 
Cole's  salary,  and  as  such  they  gave  their  views 
freely  to  Mr.  Cole  upon  the  impropriety  of  his  going 
to  see  Bob  Henry  in  jail,  and  exerting  himself  to 
stem  the  tide  against  him  among  the  black  people. 

Mr.  Cole's  fair  little  face  flushed  up  at  this  criti 
cism  delivered  from  old  Mr.  Hibbs  in  a  loud  and 
dictatorial  voice  on  the  court  house  green  before  a 
crowd  of  persons. 

"  Mr.  Hibbs — I — I — am  a  minister  of  the  gospel, 
sir,  and  my  duty  is  to  condole  with  the  afflicted,  sir, 
— and — however  sir, — whatever  may  be  your  opinion 


86  THE   BERKELEYS 

of  that  poor  wretch  in  the  jail  yonder,  and  however 
it  may  conduce  to — to — unpopularity,  I  shall  con 
tinue  to  visit  him.  I  have  sympathy  with  the  err 
ing,"  he  said,  remembering  that  terrible  evening  at 
The  Beeches. 

A  heavy  hand  descended  upon  Mr.  Cole's  shoul 
der,  and  Colonel  Berkeley's  handsome  face  shone  at 
him. 

"  Right  you  are,  Cole.  You're  a  little  prig  some 
times,  but  you  are  something  of  a  man,  sir — some 
thing  of  a  man  !  " 

Mr.  Cole  blushed  with  pleasure  at  this  dubious 
compliment. 

Olivia  Berkeley's  heart  was  touched  with  pity 
for  the  unfortunate  negro.  His  ailing  wife  came 
every  day  to  tell  the  same  rambling  and  piteous 
story.  Besides,  Cave  had  been  at  work  with  her — 
and  he  had  great  power  with  young  imaginations. 
Pembroke  felt  a  certain  anxiety  about  the  case.  It 
was  one  of  those  which  gave  room  for  the  sympa 
thetic  oratory  which  in  the  country  districts  in  the 
South  yet  obtains.  He  felt  at  first  that  if  he  could 
make  the  jury  weep,  his  success  as  a  lawyer  would 
be  assured  and  immediate.  But  if  he  failed  it  would 
mean  long  years  of  toil  at  his  profession  to  gain  that 
which  by  a  happy  inspiration  he  could  win  at  a 
single  coup.  He  worked  hard,  and  prepared  him 
self — not  solely  for  oratory,  because  the  Hibbses 
had  not  only  engaged  a  formidable  array  of  local 
talent,  but  had  got  one,  if  not  two  great  men  from 
afar,  and  the  attorney-general  himself,  to  help  the 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  8/ 

state.  Pembroke  went  to  Cave  despondent  and 
nervous  about  this. 

"  It  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  you," 
answered  Cave.  "  Don't  you  see,  the  prosecution 
has  taken  the  form  of  a  persecution  ?  And  the 
bringing  in  of  outside  talent  is  the  greatest  luck  I 
ever  heard  of.  The  jury,  if  I  know  anything  of 
human  nature,  will  not  try  the  prisoner  according 
to  the  law  and  the  evidence.  They  will  try  you 
and  the  lawyers  from  elsewhere — with  a  strong  pre 
disposition  in  favor  of  their  own  county  man.  It 
will  go  hard  with  them  if  they  can't  find  some  way 
to  discount  the  outsiders.  Of  course,  I  don't  say 
that  this  feeling  will  be  immediately  developed,  but 
it  will  come  out  just  as  certainly  as  arithmetical 
progression." 

"  I  hope  so,"  Pembroke  answered  devoutly. 

The  day  of  the  trial  came — a  sunshiny  one  in 
midwinter.  Every  man  in  the  county  turned  out. 
Nothing  delights  a  rural  Virginian  so  much  as  a 
forensic  argument.  He  will  ride  twenty  miles  to 
hear  it,  and  sit  it  out,  in  cold,  or  heat,  or  wet,  or 
misery,  or  anything.  Then,  besides  the  interest 
naturally  attaching  to  the  case,  was  the  curiosity 
to  see  and  hear  Pembroke.  He  had  not  added  to 
his  popularity  by  his  absence  after  the  war — and 
Madame  Roller  had  been  a  millstone  around  his 
neck  latterly.  His  father  and  his  grandfather  and 
his  great-grandfather  had  been  great  lawyers  before 
him — indeed  there  was  no  tradition  or  history 
which  went  back  to  the  time  when  there  had  not 


88  THE   BERKELEYS 

been  a  Pembroke  practicing  successfully  at  the  bar 
in  the  county.  So  while  there  was  a  current  of 
disapproval  against  him,  there  was  a  strong  under 
current  of  local  sympathy  in  his  favor  also. 

Pembroke  appeared  early  on  the  ground  that 
morning,  with  Miles.  It  was  his  first  opportunity 
except  at  the  Campdown  races  to  meet  the  county 
people  of  all  classes  generally.  He  went  about 
among  them  cool,  affable,  and  smiling. 

"  Oyez,  oyez,  oyez  !  "  the  sheriff's  loud  voice 
rang  out  from  the  court  house  steps — and  the 
crowd  poured  into  the  old  brick  building,  and  Pem 
broke,  slipping  in  by  another  way  entered  upon 
the  strain  which  lasted  for  five  days  and  nights. 

Great  as  the  crowd  was  at  first,  it  increased  every 
day.  Within  two  hours  of  the  swearing  in  of  the 
jury,  just  what  Cave  had  predicted  came  to  pass. 
The  prosecution  saw  that  the  jury  was  on  the  side 
of  a  Pembroke — the  Pembrokes  had  always  been 
prime  favorites  with  juries  in  that  county,  and  the 
present  one  was  no  exception.  Naturally,  this 
nettled  the  attorney-general  and  the  other  great 
men  who  appeared  for  the  State.  It  was  certainly  an 
exasperating  thing  to  come  so  far  to  find  twelve  men 
obstinately  bent  on  seeing  things  from  the  point  of 
view  of  a  handsome,  plausible  young  advocate. 
The  court,  however,  was  all  that  could  be  desired. 
The  attorney  general  expressed  his  belief  to  his 
colleagues  that  if  French  Pembroke  relied  upon  an 
eloquent  speech,  and  the  precedent  of  a  Pembroke 
always  carrying  the  winning  colors  in  a  jury  trial, 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  89 

he  would  be  mistaken — because  Judge  Randolph, 
silent  and  grim,  looked  keenly  after  the  law.  It 
was,  as  Pembroke  knew,  no  easy  undertaking  to  face 
the  array  of  lawyers  before  him.  Like  them,  he 
was  shrewd  enough  to  see  that  it  would  be  a  poor 
triumph  to  obtain  a  verdict  that  would  not  stand. 
Bob  Henry  became  to  him  merely  an  incident. 
He  looked  day  after  day,  during  the  trial,  at  the 
negro's  ashy,  scared  face  in  the  prisoner's  dock,  and 
sometimes  felt  a  kind  of  wonder  that  a  creature 
so  ignorant  and  so  inconsequential  could  be  of 
such  tremendous  importance  to  any  human  being. 
For  Bob  Henry  took  up  Pembroke's  mind,  his  soul, 
his  nights,  his  days.  He  worked  all  day  for  him, 
the  tension  never  weakening  from  the  time  he 
entered  the  court  room  in  the  morning,  until  by 
the  light  of  sputtering  candles  he  saw  Bob  Henry 
walked  off  in  the  sheriff's  custody  at  night.  Then 
Pembroke  would  go  to  his  little  office,  and  lighting 
his  lamp,  begin  work  on  his  books  and  his  notes. 
Even  Cave  and  Miles  were  unwelcome  then.  He 
was  engaged  in  a  fierce  intellectual  struggle  that 
he  must  fight  out  for  himself.  He  had  meant  in 
the  beginning  to  keep  himself  in  condition,  but  he 
found  out  that  it  was  one  of  the  times  when  the 
soul  triumphs  over  the  body.  He  would  throw 
himself  on  the  lounge  in  his  office  toward  daylight 
and  snatch  three  or  four  hours  of  heavy  and  dream 
less  sleep,  and  then  wake  up  with  his  faculties  as 
keen  and  tireless  as  if  he  had  slept  for  a  week.  He 
did  not  grow  haggard  and  wild-eyed  as  men  some- 


90  THE   BERKELEYS 

times  do  under  these  excitements.  He  was  pale, 
but  singularly  self-possessed  and  alert,  and  looked 
invariably  trim  and  composed.  He  forgot  every 
thing  in  those  days  but  the  negro  he  was  trying  to 
save  from  the  gallows.  The  lawyers  who  opposed 
him  pounded  him  unmercifully.  They  too,  caught 
the  infection  of  enthusiasm.  It  would  be  scandal 
ous  to  be  beaten  by  an  untried  hand  in  such  a  case 
as  that,  with  such  admirable  fighting  ground  as 
they  had. 

One  afternoon,  when  the  court  adjourned  early 
on  account  of  a  slight  illness  of  one  of  the  jurors, 
Pembroke  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  off  far  into 
the  woodlands.  When  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the 
village  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  dashed  along 
the  country  road.  It  did  him  good.  He  felt 
already  as  if  he  had  gained  strength  enough  to  last 
him  even  at  the  rate  he  was  using  it  up  if  the  trial 
should  last  two  weeks  more.  Presently  he  brought 
his  horse  down  to  a  walk,  and  enjoyed  the  strange 
restfulness  and  strength  he  felt  possessing  him. 
Suddenly  he  came  face  to  face  with  Olivia  Berkeley, 
riding  quietly  along  the  same  road. 

It  would  be  no  exaggeration  to  say  he  had  for 
gotten  her  existence.  He  had  not  thought  once  of 
her  or  of  Madame  Koller,  or  Ahlberg,  anybody  but 
Bob  Henry.  It  had  not  been  ten  days  since  he 
had  seen  her,  but  he  felt  as  if  it  had  been  ten  years. 
She  looked  very  pretty  and  Amazon-like  on  her 
light-built  black,  in  her  close  habit. 

"  Papa  tells   me  great  things  of  you,"  she   said, 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  9! 

after  the  first  greeting.  "  He  is  up,  storming  and 
swearing  for  breakfast  by  sunrise,  so  as  to  be  at  the 
court-house  by  nine  o'clock.  I  never  expected  to 
see  him  so  happy  again  in  dear  old  Virginia.  It  is 
some  excitement  for  him.  As  for  Jane,  she  is  be 
ginning  to  think  Bob  Henry  a  martyr  and  a  hero 
combined." 

Pembroke  smiled.  It  was  not  the  first  praise 
that  had  reached  his  ears,  tout  the  first  that  he  had 
heeded.  He  had  quite  lost  sight  in  the  last  few 
extraordinary  days  of  any  outside  view  of  what  he 
was  doing — but  praise  from  a  pretty  woman — 
especially  praise  so  obviously  sincere,  is  dear  to 
man's  heart. 

"  I  am  sorry  the  Colonel  should  be  so  uproarious 
in  consequence  of  the  trial." 

"  He  is,  I  assure  you.  But  I — I — too,  feel  very 
great  interest  in  your  success.  How  much  more 
noble  this  is  than  dawdling  on  the  continent  !  You 
will  not  get  any  money  by  it,  but  think — the  whole 
county  will  admire  and  applaud  you — and  think  of 
those  two  poor  black  creatures." 

"  You  are  crediting  me  with  more  than  I 
deserve,"  he  said,  finding  it  difficult  to  explain  that 
what  he  was  doing  had  long  passed  out  of  the  region 
of  a  desire  for  applause,  and  indeed,  of  the  feeling 
of  compassion  which  had  once  inspired  him.  Now 
it  was  the  overpowering  intellectual  and  natural 
bent  that  was  having  its  own  way.  Pembroke  had 
been  born  a  lawyer,  although  he  did  not  suspect  it. 

In  taking  his  thoughts  back  to  that  remote  period 


92  THE   BERKELEYS 

before  the  trial  begun,  Olivia  had  brought  Madame 
Roller  to  mind. 

"Have  you  seen  Elise — Madame  Roller — lately?" 
The  first  name  slipped  out  involuntarily.  He 
rarely  called  Madame  Roller  by  it  at  any  time — but 
now,  by  one  of  those  tricks  which  memory  serves 
all  people,  her  name  came  to  his  lips  not  only 
without  his  will,  but  against  it.  His  face  turned  a 
deep  red,  and  he  bit  his  lip  in  anger  and  vexation. 
Olivia  straightened  herself  up  on  her  horse  and 
smiled  at  him  that  peculiar  indulgent  smile,  and 
addressed  him  in  those  gentle  tones  that  betokened 
the  freezing  up  of  her  sympathies  and  the  coming 
to  life  of  her  contempt.  He  knew  only  too  well 
the  meaning  of  that  appalling  sweetness.  "  No,  I 
have  not.  But  to-morrow  I  will  probably  see  her. 
Shall  I  remember  you  to  her?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  replied  Pembroke,  wishing 
Madame  Roller  at  the  devil,  as  he  often  did.  Often 
— but  not  always. 

Then  they  drifted  into  commonplace,  and  pres 
ently  they  parted,  Pembroke  galloping  back  to  the 
village,  despising  himself  almost  as  much  as  the  day 
he  had  allowed  his  anger  to  lead  him  into  the  quar 
rel  with  Ahlberg. 

But  when  he  reached  his  dingy  little  office,  Olivia 
Berkeley,  Madame  Roller,  Ahlberg,  all  faded  rap 
idly  out  of  his  mind.  That  great  game  of  skill  in 
which  he  was  engaged,  the  stake  being  a  human 
life,  again  absorbed  him.  And  then  the  critical 
time  came,  when,  after  having  tried  to  prove  that 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  93 

the  negro's  blow  had  not  killed  Hackett,  he  had  to 
bring  out  his  theory  that  a  dead  and  missing  man 
was  the  murderer.  Hackett's  boon  companions, 
who  formed  a  community  of  lawless  loafers,  had 
been  unaccountably  shy  about  attending  the  trial. 
Like  the  rest  of  their  class,  they  regarded  a  sensa 
tional  murder  trial  as  the  most  fascinating  occasion 
in  life.  They  were  great  frequenters  of  the  court 
house,  particularly  of  its  low  drinking  places  during 
"  court  week,"  but  not  one  of  them  showed  up  in 
the  first  days  of  the  trial.  Cave  brought  this  sig 
nificant  news  to  Pembroke,  who  knew  few  persons 
in  the  miscellaneous  crowd  that  he  saw  every  day. 
It  made  his  heart  beat  hard  and  fast  with  the  hope 
of  a  coming  success.  The  Hibbses  and  their  retain 
ers,  and  a  certain  set  of  people  who  overcame  their 
dislike  to  the  Hibbs  family  out  of  exaggerated  sym 
pathy  for  a  Northern  man  with  Southern  sympathies, 
for  which  Hackett  had  posed,  formed  a  kind  of 
camp  to  themselves  in  the  court  room. 

The  lawyers  for  the  State  found  out  that  Pem 
broke  knew  all  the  weak  spots  in  their  theory  that 
Bob  Henry's  blow  killed  Hackett,  but  there  was  no 
suspicion  of  any  evidence  forthcoming  to  support 
Pembroke's  theory  that  another  hand  struck  the 
blow.  Hackett's  association  with  the  deserters  had 
evidently  been  carefully  concealed  by  him,  as  it 
would  have  ostracized  him  utterly. 

Therefore,  when  Pembroke,  putting  off  until  the 
last  possible  moment,  summoned  John  Jones  and 
George  Robinson  and  about  a  dozen  others  of  the 
7 


94  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  deserters'  gang,"  as  it  was  called,  his  opponents 
were  taken  by  surprise.  One  day  only  was  taken 
up  with  their  evidence.  Each  witness,  debarred  by 
Judge  Randolph's  orders  from  communicating  with 
the  other,  told  a  rambling,  lying,  frightened  story, 
out  of  which  Pembroke  gleaned  the  midnight  carou 
sal,  a  quarrel,  a  blow — all  of  them  running  away, 
and  leaving  Hackett  to  his  fate.  In  one  point,  how 
ever,  they  all  agreed — that  the  man,  William  Marsh, 
who  was  fearfully  cut  by  Hackett's  knife,  and  who 
disappeared  to  die,  was  the  one  who  struck  the  fatal 
blow  that  knocked  Hackett  senseless,  and  from 
which  he  never  rallied.  All  were  eager  to  lay  it 
on  the  dead  man,  and  so  to  shift  the  suspicion  from 
themselves.  The  State,  of  course,  impugned  the 
character  of  the  witnesses,  but  that  was  a  work  of 
supererogation.  They  had  no  characters  to  im 
pugn.  Yet,  both  judge  and  jury  saw,  that  without 
the  slightest  objection  to  perjuring  themselves  on 
the  part  of  this  precious  gang,  they  were  involun 
tarily  proving  that  Marsh,  not  Bob  Henry,  was  the 
murderer.  Then  Cave's  protege,  a  small,  ragged, 
undersized  boy  of  fifteen,  was  introduced.  He  was 
diffident,  and  shy,  and  trembling  in  every  limb,  but 
his  testimony  was  perfectly  plain  and  straightfor 
ward,  so  much  so  that  an  eminent  gentleman  on 
the  side  of  the  prosecution,  roared  out  to  him, 
"  Now,  young  man,  tell  us  if  this  remarkably 
straight  story  of  yours  didn't  have  help  from  some 
where.  Have  you  talked  with  anybody  about  this 
evidence  ?  " 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  95 

"  Y — y — yes,  sir,"  stammered  the  boy,  frightened 
half  out  of  his  life. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  "  thundered  the  lawyer. 

"  Mr.— Mr.— Cave." 

"  Aha,  I  thought  so.  Now,  sir,  tell  us  what  Mr. 
Cave  said  to  you — and  be  careful — very  careful." 

The  boy  looked  perfectly  helpless  and  hopeless 
for  a  moment.  Pembroke  almost  felt  himself 
tremble. 

"  He  said — he  said,  sir,  some  of  the  lawyers  would 
holler  at  me,  and  maybe  confuse  me — but  if  I  jes' 
stuck  to  the  truth,  and  didn't  tell  nothin'  but  what 
I  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  I'd  come  out  all  right  !  " 

Shouts  of  applause  greeted  this,  which  the  sheriff 
vainly  tried  to  quell.  The  great  man  remarked  to 
his  personal  staff,  sotto  voce,  "  It's  all  up.  Pem 
broke's  case  is  too  strong  for  us." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fifth  day  when 
Pembroke's  closing  argument  was  over,  and  the 
jury  had  been  instructed  and  had  retired.  The 
Judge's  instructions  rather  damped  Pembroke's 
hopes.  The  testimony  of  the  deserters,  while  act 
ually  of  great  effect,  was  legally  not  worth  much — 
their  motive  in  shoveling  the  blame  on  Marsh  was 
too  obvious.  And  Cave's  protege,  although  his 
testimony  was  remarkably  straightforward,  was  lit 
tle  better  than  a  vagabond  boy.  Pembroke  was  not 
so  sanguine  of  his  own  success  as  his  opponents  were. 

The  court  house  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  few 
sputtering  candles  and  an  ill-burning  lamp.  The 
Judge  sat  up  straight  and  stern,  fatigued  with  the 


96  THE   BERKELEYS 

long  trial,  but  willing  to  wait  until  six  o'clock,  the 
usual  hour  of  adjournment,  for  the  jury.  The 
shabby  court-room  was  filled  with  men,  eager,  talk 
ative,  but  almost  breathless  with  excitement — for 
by  some  occult  means,  they  divined  that  the  jury 
wouldn't  be  long  making  up  its  verdict. 

The  negro  sat  in  the  dock,  more  ghastly,  more 
ashy  than  ever.  Pembroke  rose  to  go  to  his  office. 
He  felt  his  iron  nerve  beginning  to  give  way,  but  a 
voice — piteous  and  pleading — reached  him. 

"  Fur  God's  sake,  Marse  French,  doan'  go  'way. 
I  want  you  fur  ter  stay  by  me." 

Pembroke  sat  down  again,  this  time  a  little 
nearer  the  poor  prisoner,  whose  eyes  followed  him 
like  a  dog's. 

A  hush  settled  down  upon  the  audience.  There 
was  no  pretense  of  attending  to  any  other  business. 
The  opposing  lawyers  rested  wearily  in  uncomfort 
able  postures  about  the  court-room.  They  talked 
in  whispers  among  themselves.  Pembroke  knew 
by  instinct  what  they  were  saying.  It  was  that  the 
jury  was  hopelessly  gone,  but  that  there  remained 
hope  yet  in  the  stern  and  silent  Judge,  whose 
instructions  had  been  brief  and  in  no  way  indica 
tive  of  which  way  his  judgment  inclined.  It  was 
not  the  result  of  this  trial  which  concerned  them,  it 
was  the  prospect  of  another. 

Among  practiced  lawyers,  nothing  is  easier  to  tell 
than  the  views  of  a  judge  on  a  criminal  case — after 
the  decision  has  been  rendered.  About  an  hour 
of  the  suspense  had  been  endured  when  a  message 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  97 

came  that  the  jury  had  agreed  upon  a  verdict. 
The  expectant  crowd  suddenly  became  hushed  and 
motionless.  Not  as  wise  as  the  lawyers,  there  was 
utter  uncertainty  among  them  as  to — not  only 
whether  the  prisoner  was  guilty  or  not,  but 
whether  Pembroke  alone  and  single-handed,  had 
vanquished  the  veterans  before  him. 

The  jury  filed  in  and  took  their  places,  and  the 
formalities  were  gone  through,  when  the  foreman 
said  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Not  guilty."  A  wild  and 
tumultuous  cheering  broke  forth.  Like  the  poor 
prisoner,  Pembroke  felt  dazed.  The  end  was  not 
yet  by  any  means.  The  opposing  lawyers  were  on 
their  feet  in  a  moment — the  sheriff  shouted  for 
order — and  in  the  midst  of  this,  a  sudden  silence 
came  and  Pembroke  found  himself — he  hardly  knew 
how — on  the  platform  shaking  hands  with  Judge 
Randolph. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sir,"  he  heard  the  Judge's 
voice  saying  afar  off.  "  You  have  maintained  the 
reputation  of  your  distinguished  father  for  the  tact 
and  judgment  with  which  you  have  defended  your 
client.  You  have  a  great  career  before  you.  It  is 
most  encouraging  to  see  such  an  example  among 
the  younger  members  of  the  bar." 

Then  there  was  a  wild  commotion.  Pembroke  felt 
himself  choking,  trembling,  utterly  unable  to  reply. 
The  pause  to  hear  what  he  would  say  became  pain 
fully  prolonged.  He  began  "  Your  Honor  " — and 
after  repeating  it  twice,  became  utterly  dumb. 

"  You    may  retire,    Mr.  Pembroke,"  said    Judge 


98  THE   BERKELEYS 

Randolph,  with  a  smile,  "your  modesty  is  equal  to 
your  abilities." 

At  this  Pembroke  felt  himself  seized  by  the  legs. 
The  crowd  carried  him  out  into  the  night  air  where 
another  crowd  yelled  and  shouted,  he  struggling  and 
breathless,  and  presenting  a  more  undignified 
appearance  than  he  had  ever  imagined  himself 
capable  of  looking.  The  next  thing  he  found  him 
self  on  the  court-house  steps.  While  in  the  din 
and  confusion,  he  recognized  occasionally  faces  by 
the  light  of  the  swinging  lantern  in  the  porch  of 
the  building.  In  a  moment  the  attorney-general 
of  the  State  appeared  by  his  side — a  handsome 
florid  man  of  sixty.  He  waved  imperiously  for 
silence,  and  the  crowd  obeyed. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  in  a  strong,  musical  voice, 
"  our  young  friend  here  has  made  a  magnificent 
fight."  (Yells  and  cheers.)  "  He  has  done  more 
than  make  an  eloquent  speech.  He  has  mastered 
the  law  in  the  case."  (More  yells  and  shouts.) 
"  It  was  the  intention  of  my  colleagues  and  myself 
to  move  for  anew  trial.  We  have  abandoned  that 
intention."  (Yells  and  shouts  wilder  and  wilder.) 
"  We  might  possibly  get  a  new  trial  on  technicalities. 
It  would  cost  the  county  much,  and  it  would  not 
subserve  the  cause  of  justice — for  I  cheerfully 
acknowledge  to  you  here,  that  our  young  friend 
has  proved  conclusively  that  whoever  caused  the 
death  of  the  dead  man,  the  prisoner  did  not.  Now 
will  you  not  unite  with  me  in  giving  him  three 
cheers  and  a  tiger  !  " 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  99 

The  uproar  was  terrific.  Pembroke  could  say 
nothing,  could  do  nothing,  but  bow.  Suddenly  an 
inspiration  came  to  him.  He  turned  to  the  attorney- 
general  who  stood  behind  him  and  shook  hands 
with  him  warmly.  The  other  lawyers  crowded 
around  him  and  shook  hands.  Somebody  made 
way  through  the  crowd  for  Bob  Henry.  The  negro 
on  seeing  Pembroke  broke  into  loud  sobbing,  and 
seizing  him  in  both  arms  called  down  blessings  on 
him.  Then  Colonel  Berkeley  shouldered  his  way 
up  to  him  with  Miles.  At  every  minute  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  increased.  Pembroke  was 
growing  deadly  pale.  The  excitement,  the  sleep 
lessness,  of  the  last  week  was  telling  on  him  at  last. 
Colonel  Berkeley,  after  a  sharp  glance  at  him,  took 
him  by  the  arm,  and  by  dint  of  hauling  and  pulling 
succeeded  in  wedging  his  way  with  Pembroke 
through  the  crowd,  which  in  the  hullaballoo  and 
semi-darkness,  did  not  know  that  the  hero  of  the 
hour  was  gone,  and  yelled  fiercely,  "  Speech ! 
Speech  !  "  The  attorney-general  gratified  them. 

Colonel  Berkeley  hustled  Pembroke  down,  back 
through  the  court-room,  out  of  a  side  door,  and 
through  byways  to  where  the  Isleham  carriage 
stood,  and  clapped  him  in  it,  jumping  in  after  him. 

"Cave  will  look  after  Miles,"  he  said,  and  shouted 
to  Petrarch,  who  was  on  the  box,  "  Home."  The 
coachman  laid  the  whip  on  his  horses  and  they 
made  the  five  miles  to  Isleham  in  half  an  hour. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  everything  was 
too  recent  with  Pembroke — his  final  speech,  the 


100  THE   BERKELEYS 

excitement,  the  relief,  the  collapse — for  him  to  have 
recovered  himself.  Olivia  met  them  in  the  hall. 
Her  father,  who  relished  a  new  sensation  as  only  a 
man  who  loves  sensations  can,  was  joyous. 

"  Congratulate  him,  my  love,"  he  called  out  in 
his  merry,  jovial  voice.  "  He  is  a  true  son  of  old 
French  Pembroke.  Great  Caesar  !  Haven't  I  seen 
your  father  carry  everything  before  him  just  like 
this!  Would  that  he  were  alive  this  night!  My 
darling,  you  should  have  heard  his  speech — a  regular 
Burr  and  Blennerhassett  speech,  Olivia — and  the 
effect — by  Jove,  my  dear,  I  can't  describe  it — and 
the  Judge  called  him  up  on  the  bench  to  congratu 
late  him — and — and — 

The  Colonel  surged  on,  telling  everything  at 
once.  Olivia  listened  with  shining  eyes.  She  had 
held  out  her  hand  to  Pembroke  in  the  beginning, 
and  as  her  father  talked  she  continued  to  hold  the 
hand  in  her  little  strong  clasp.  For  the  first  time 
Pembroke  was  burnt  by  the  fire  in  her  eyes.  What  a 
woman  for  a  man  full  of  ambition  to  have  !  He  had 
seen  Elise  Koller  wildly  enthusiastic  about  herself 
—but  Olivia  had  forgotten  all  about  herself.  She 
was  coloring,  smiling,  and  sympathetic  about  him. 

"  How  glad  I  am — how  splendid  of  you — for  that 
poor  negro,  too.  God  will  reward  you,"  she  said. 

"  Now,  my  boy,"  cried  the  Colonel,  "  What  do  you 
want  ?  Your  dinner  or  your  bed  ?  " 

"  My  bed,"  answered  Pembroke,  smiling,  but 
ready  to  drop.  "  I  want  nothing  but  sleep,  and  I 
want  to  sleep  a  week.  Thank  you,  Olivia." 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  IOI 

He  had  never  called  her  by  her  name  since  they 
were  boy  and  girl  together.  The  Colonel  in  his 
excitement  did  not  notice  it,  but  Olivia  turned  a 
beautiful  rosy  red.  The  Colonel  dragged  Pembroke 
off  to  his  room.  Petrarch  put  him  to  bed.  Before 
he  slept  though,  his  thoughts  returned  to  Olivia's 
soft  eyes — while  Colonel  Berkeley,  walking  the 
drawing-room  floor  downstairs,  retailed  in  flamboy 
ant  language,  to  Olivia,  the  triumphs  of  the  day. 


IO2  THE   BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IT  took  two  or  three  days  for  Pembroke  to 
recover  from  his  fatigue  and  excitement.  Perhaps 
he  did  not  hasten  his  complete  recuperation.  It 
was  surely  pleasanter  to  come  down  to  a  twelve 
o'clock  breakfast,  served  piping  hot  by  Petrarch, 
with  Olivia  to  pour  his  coffee  for  him,  with  that 
morning  freshness  which  is  so  becoming  to  a 
woman,  than  the  loneliness  of  Malvern,  with  poor 
Miles'  sad  face  and  pathetic  effort  to  forget  himself 
and  the  wreck  of  his  boyish  life.  Cave  had  taken 
the  boy  to  his  cabin  in  the  pine  woods  to  stay  some 
days,  so  that  there  was  nothing  to  call  Pembroke 
back  home.  Miles  was  happier  than  for  a  long 
time.  Cave  spoke  to  him  with  a  certain  bracing 
encouragement  that  Olivia's  pitiful  sympathy  and 
his  brother's  sharp  distress  lacked.  There  was 
more  of  the  salt  of  common  sense  in  what  Cave 
said  than  in  Olivia's  unspoken  consolation,  which 
much  as  it  charmed  the  boy,  sometimes  left  him 
sadder  than  it  found  him.  She  was  so  sorry  for 
him  that  she  could  not  always  disguise  it. 

So  a  few  days  went  on,  and  Pembroke  began  to 
find  Olivia  every  hour  pleasanter,  more  winning — 
until  one  night  in  his  own  room,  after  Olivia  had 
played  to  him  half  the  evening  and  had  read  to  him 
the  other  half,  he  took  himself  to  task.  In  the  first 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  103 

place,  he  did  not  want  to  marry  at  all  then.  He 
had  a  great  many  things  to  do  first.  Then,  there 
was  a  serious  obstacle  in  the  way,  even  had  all  the 
rest  been  smoothed  out.  The  Pembroke  fortune, 
such  as  it  was,  was  on  its  last  legs.  With  the 
negroes  gone,  and  the  land  frightfully  reduced  in 
value,  there  was  only  a  slender  competence  left — 
and  those  two  years  in  Paris  had  cost  a  pretty 
penny.  Only  during  the  last  few  weeks  Pembroke 
had  waked  up  to  the  true  condition  of  affairs.  Miles 
must  be  provided  for,  and  uptfn  a  scale  more  suited 
to  Pembroke's  tastes  than  his  resources.  Then, 
there  remained  for  the  elder  brother,  nothing.  He 
had  not  thought  of  this  when  he  borrowed  money 
at  a  high  interest  so  merrily  while  he  was  in  Paris 
— but  as  he  was  every  day  awaking  to  his  manlier 
self,  this  had  come  home  to  him  in  its  true  light. 
He  was  not  a  man  to  ask  any  woman  to  share 
poverty  with  him.  To  have  brought  a  woman 
down,  as  his  wife,  from  a  state  of  former  luxury, 
would  have  been  a  misery  too  keen.  Rather  would 
he  have  died — for  false  as  well  as  true  pride  had 
great  share  in  him.  Therefore,  he  thought,  as  he 
sat  in  his  room  smoking,  it  would  be  better  that  he 
did  not  get  his  wings  scorched.  It  was  to  his  credit 
that  he  did  not  allow  any  supposition  that  Olivia 
cared  for  him  to  enter  into  his  calculation. 

"  Sweet  Olivia,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  some 
luckier  man  will  win  you.  I  shall  be  ten  years  too 
late," — and  then  he  sighed,  and  presently  began  to 
whistle  cheerfully.  But  one  thing  was  sure.  He 


104  THE   BERKELEYS 

would  never  marry  Elise  Kollcr.  Even  though  his 
eyes  were  opened  now  to  the  fact  that  he  was  virtu 
ally  a  ruined  man,  there  was  no  longer  any  chance 
that  the  baser  part  of  him  would  succumb  to  that 
temptation. 

It  was  pleasant — especially  the  Colonel's  jolly 
company,  to  say  nothing  of  Petrarch's,  who 
highly  approved  of  Pembroke,  and  remarked  as  he 
industriously  brushed  his  clothes  on  the  last  night, 
"  I  clar,  Marse  French,  you  sutny  do  favor  yo' 
par.  I  'member  de  time  he  made  that  argyument 
when  Marse  Jack  Thornton,  he  mos'  kilt  Marse 
Spott  Randolph  on  'count  o'  Miss  Tilly  Corbin. 
We  had  ole  wuks  dat  time.  'Twuz  when  me  an' 
Marse  was  co'tin'  missis.  I  tell  yo'  par,  '  A  eye  fur 
a  eye,'  '  a  toof  fur  a  toof,  an'  I  will  resist  de  crip- 
piers,  say  de  Lord.'  Marster  an'  me  went  to  de 
cote  house  ter  hear  him.  I  tho't  'bout  it  de  yether 
night,  when  de  white  folks  was  a  crowdin'  'roun' 
an'  shakin'  yo'  han'  an'  clappin'  you  on  de  back. 
Arter  you  went  up  st'yars,  Miss  Livy,  she  come  an' 
say  to  me,  'Petrarch,  did  you  hear  de  speech?' 
I  say,  '  Lord,  honey,  dat  I  did.  You  jes'  oughter 
seen  de  folks  whoopin'  an'  hollerin'  and  Marse 
French  he  stannin*  up,  lookin'  handsome  like  he  mar ' 
—you  aint  forgit  yo'  mar,  has  you,  Marse  French?" 

"  No,"  said  Pembroke. 

"  I  reklecks  her  when  she  warn't  no  older  'n  Miss 
Livy.  She  was  kinder  light  on  her  feet  like  Miss 
Livy,  and  she  had  dem  shinin'  eyes,  an  dat  ar  way 
Miss  Livy  got  o'  larfin'  at  yer.  She  an'  mistis*  was 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  105 

mighty  good  frien's,  jes'  like  you  par  an'  marse,  an' 
David  an'  Jonadab.  Dey  use  ter  come  here  an' 
stay  a  week — yo'  mar  come  in  de  kerridge  wid  Miss 
'Lizbeth  an'  Marse  Miles,  an'  yaller  Betsy — she  was 
a  likely  nigger,  but  a  dretful  sinner, — an'  you  on  a 
little  pony  ridin'  by  yo'  par's  side.  Lordy  how  you 
did  useter  tease  Miss  Livy  an'  dem  chillen  !  Some 
times  you  mek  Miss  Livy  cry — an'  cry,  an'  de  tears 
wuz  like  de  waters  o'  Babylon." 

"  What  a  brute  I  must  have  been  !  Why  didn't 
you  or  yellow  Betsy  get  me  a  lathering?  " 

"  Hi,  Marse  French,  boys  is  boys.  Dey  c'yarn 
help  bein'  troublesome  an'  dirty  an'  teasin'.  Gord 
done  made  'em  so."  '  My  people  is  rambunctious,' 
He  say,  an'  I  ain't  never  seen  no  boys  'cept  what 
was  dirty  an'  tormentin'." 

At  last,  Pembroke  felt  he  had  no  excuse  for 
remaining  longer  at  Isleham,  and  besides,  he  was 
seriously  afraid  of  falling  in  love  with  Olivia.  So 
he  took  his  way  back  to  Malvern. 

While  at  Isleham,  he  had  got  one  or  two  cocked- 
hatted  notes  from  Madame  Roller.  But  on  reach 
ing  home  he  found  that  one  arrived  with  great  reg 
ularity  every  morning  and  occasionally  during  the 
day  beside.  The  tenor  of  all  was  the  same.  Why 
did  he  not  come  to  see  his  friend.  She  was  so 
lonely.  The  country  was  triste  at  best.  Pembroke 
felt  very  like  asking  her  if  the  country  was  so  triste 
then  why  did  she  not  go  away.  But  he  was  a  gen 
tleman  as  well  as  a  man,  and  was  patient  with 
women  even  in  their  follies. 


106  THE   BERKELEYS 

At  last,  when  he  could  put  it  off  no  longer — as 
indeed  he  had  no  tangible  reason  for  not  going  to  see 
Madame  Koller — he  went.  She  received  him  in  her 
little  sitting-room,  adapting  at  the  time  one  of  her 
prettiest  poses  for  his  benefit.  She  had  heard  of  his 
triumph  and  was  full  of  pretty  congratulations — 
but  in  some  way,  she  could  not  strike  the  note  of 
praise  that  would  harmonize.  She  didn't  know 
anything  about  professional  men.  She  had  lived 
in  Europe  long  enough  to  get  the  notion  that  it 
was  rather  vulgar  to  work  for  pay— not  that  Pem 
broke  got  any  pay  in  this  case.  But  if  Pembroke 
had  married  her,  that  weather-beaten  sign  "  Attor- 
ney-at-Law  "  would  have  come  down  from  his  office 
in  the  village,  and  the  office  itself  would  have  lost 
its  tenant — so  she  thought. 

Pembroke  always  felt  a  delicacy  in  asking  her  to 
sing,  but  Madame  Koller  often  volunteered  to  do 
it,  knowing  Pembroke's  passionate  fondness  for 
music,  and  feeling  that  truly  on  that  ground  they 
were  in  sympathy.  Olivia  Berkeley's  finished  and 
charming  playing  pleased  and  soothed  him,  but  it  was 
nothing  to  the  deep  delight  that  Madame  Keller's 
music  gave  him — for  when  she  sat  down  to  the  piano 
and  playing  her  own  accompaniments  sang  to  him 
in  her  fervid  way,  it  simply  enchanted  him — and 
Madame  Koller  knew  it.  Although  he  was  exas- 
peratingly  cool  under  the  whole  battery  of  her  smiles 
and  glances,  yet  when  she  sang  to  him,  he  aban 
doned  himself  to  the  magic  of  a  voice. 

While  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  began 


AND  THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  IO/ 

to  sing,  Pembroke,  stretched  out  in  a  vast  chair, 
glanced  sidewise  at  her.  She  did  not  mouth  and 
grimace  in  singing  as  many  women  do.  She 
opened  her  wide,  handsome  mouth,  and  seemed 
only  to  be  calmly  smiling,  while  her  voice  soared 
like  a  bird.  She  had,  in  short,  no  amateurish 
tricks. 

Her  profile,  with  its  masses  of  yellow  hair,  was 
imposing.  She  was  no  mere  slip  of  a  girl.  When 
she  had  sung  to  him  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour 
she  thought  the.  time  had  come  for  her  reward.  So 
she  went  back  to  her  place  on  the  sofa  near  the  fire 
and  posed  beautifully.  Pembroke  almost  groaned. 
The  singing  was  delicious  enough,  but  the  sen 
timental  hair-splitting  had  long  since  palled — and 
besides,  the  lady  was  too  much  in  earnest. 

"  You  remained  several  days,  did  you  not,  at  the 
Colonel's?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pembroke,  cheerfully,  and  thinking 
gloomily  how  very  like  a  matrimonial  lecture  was 
the  ensuing  conversation.  These  interviews  with 
Madame  Koller  always  disinclined  him  extremely 
to  giving  any  woman  the  power  to  ask  him  search 
ing  questions.  Only,  he  did  not  believe  Olivia 
Berkeley  was  an  inquisitive  woman — she  was  quite 
clever  enough  to  find  out  what  she  wished  to  know 
without  asking  questions. 

The  only  remark  Madame  Koller  made  in  reply 
was,  "  Ah," — and  lapsed  into  silence,  but  the 
silence  did  not  last  long. 

"  Olivia  must  have  been  very  charming." 


108  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  Immensely/'  answered  Pembroke,  with  much 
heartiness,  and  wishing  Madame  Koller  would  sing 
again.  He  hardly  knew  which  was  the  more  exas 
perating,  Madame  Keller's  tone  to  him  in  speaking 
of  Olivia,  or  Olivia's  tone  in  speaking  of  Madame 
Koller. 

"  Olivia  is  so  excessively  tame,"  said  she,  after  a 
pause.  "  So  cold — so  self-contained." 

"  I  don't  think  she  lacks  spirit,  though,"  re 
sponded  Pembroke,  with  the  easy  air  of  a  man  dis 
cussing  the  most  trivial  subject,  although  he  swore 
mentally  at  Madame  Koller  for  introducing  the 
subject.  "  Miss  Berkeley  has  the  reticence  of  a 
gentlewoman.  But  by  heaven  !  I  wouldn't  like  to 
arouse  that  spirit  of  hers." 

Madame  Koller  sighed.  It  was  a  real  and  genu 
ine  sigh.  She  was  thinking  how  hard  and  strange 
it  was  that  she  was  not  permitted  by  fate  to  be 
either  a  complete  gentlewoman  or  a  complete 
artist.  She  had  learned  in  her  student  days,  and 
in  that  brief  and  brilliant  artistic  period,  to  be  reti 
cent  about  her  money  matters,  but  that  was  all. 
She  saw  even  in  her  Aunt  Sally  Peyton,  whom  she 
regarded  as  an  interfering  old  person,  without  any 
style  whatever,  a  certain  air  of  security  in  what  she 
said  and  did — a  calm  indifference  to  her  world — 
that  Madame  Koller  was  keen  enough  to  know 
marked  the  gentlewoman — which  she,  Elise  Koller, 
who  had  ten  times  the  advantages,  and  had  twenty 
times  the  knowledge  of  the  world  that  old  Mrs. 
Peyton  had,  was  never  quite  sure — there  just  was 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  IOQ 

a  little  uncertainty — ah,  it  was  very  little,  but  it 
made  a  great  deal  of  difference. 

"  America  seems  queer  enough  to  me  now,"  she 
said  presently. 

"  Very  likely,"  answered  Pembroke.  "  You  have 
remained  here  much  longer  already  than  I  ex 
pected." 

Madame  Roller  at  this  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Pem 
broke  in  a  way  that  made  him  wince.  A  blush, 
too,  showed  through  his  dark  skin. 

"  Can  you — can  you — say  that  to  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

Like  any  other  man  under  the  same  circumstances, 
Pembroke  remained  perfectly  silent — because  it 
is  a  well-known  fact  that  when  a  woman  takes 
the  initiative  in  tender  speeches,  the  man,  if  he  be 
a  man,  is  at  once  silenced.  But  Madame  Koller 
was  fluent. 

"  I  know  what  you  think  of  me,"  she  said.  This 
surprised  Pembroke,  who  really  did  not  know  what 
he  thought  of  her.  "  You  think  me  the  weakest 
woman  in  the  world.  But  I  have  been  strong. 
While  my  husband  lived,  heaven  knows  what  I  en 
dured.  He  was  the  cruelest  creature  God  ever 
made." 

Pembroke  thought  it  was  the  same  old  story  of 
continental  husbands  and  wives.  He  had  once 
known  a  marchese  who  made  no  secret  that  he 
occasionally  beat  his  marchesa.  But  Madame  Kol 
ler  almost  made  him  smile  at  the  grotesqueness  of 
what  she  told  him,  although  it  was  real  enough  to 
her  to  make  her  weep  in  the  telling. 


1 10  THE  BERKELEYS 

"  He  was  always  ill — or  imagining  himself  ill.  He 
took  medicine  until  he  nearly  drove  me  crazy  with 
his  bottles  and  plasters.  He  lived  in  a  bath  chair 
when  he  was  as  well  able  to  walk  about  as  I  was — 
and  I  was  chained  to  that  bath  chair.  Everything 
made  him  ill — even  my  singing.  He  would  not  let 
me  sing — only  think  of  it — think  of  it." 

Madame  Roller  glanced  at  Pembroke  through  her 
tears.  He  had  stood  up  and  was  saying  something 
vague  but  comforting.  The  late  Mr.  Roller  was 
indeed  a  dreadful  reminiscence. 

"  Banish  that  time  as  far  as  you  can/'  he  said. 
"  The  present  is  yours." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  Now  I  will  say  to  you  that 
black  as  that  past  is,  it  is  not  so  black  as  this  pres 
ent.  Now  I  endure  torments  far  greater  than  any 
I  felt  then." 

Pembroke's  strong  jaw  was  set  resolutely.  He 
felt  rising  tumultuously  within  him  that  masculine 
pity  that  has  wrecked  many  men.  He  would  not, 
if  he  could  help  it,  prove  false  to  himself  with  this 
woman,  in  spite  of  her  tears  and  her  voice. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  me?"  she  demanded, 
after  a  pause. 

"  This,"  answered  Pembroke,  with  much  outward 
boldness.  "  That  your  coming  here  is  an  unsuc 
cessful  experiment.  The  same  things  that  made 
this  country  life  distasteful  to  you  in  your  child 
hood  even,  make  it  distasteful  now.  This  is  not 
your  native  atmosphere.  You  will  never  be  any 
thing  but  morbid  and  wretched  here.  This  country 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  Ill 

life  is  like  death  to  you — and  almost  like  death  to 
me." 

"  Then  why — why — 

"  Why  do  I  stand  it  ?  Because  I  must.  Be 
cause  as  a  man,  I  must.  Here  is  my  work,  my 
duty,  my  manhood.  Don't  be  surprised  to  hear 
me  talk  this  way.  You  haven't  heard  me  speak  of 
these  things  before — but  still  they  govern  me  some 
— more  of  late  than  they  used  to  do.  There  is  a 
good  deal  here  that  is  melancholy  enough  to  me — 
but  I  would  be  a  poltroon  if  I  started  out  to  make 
life  amusing.  You  see,  I  have  considerable  ambi 
tion — and  that  impels  me  to  work." 

Madame  Koller  surveyed  him  keenly.  By  degrees 
the  fire  of  resentment  rose  in  her  eyes.  She  was 
angered  at  his  coolness,  at  his  calm  reasoning.  Pru 
dence  in  love  is  commonly  regarded  as  a  beggarly 
virtue  by  women. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "what  are  you  to  me? 
Nothing  but  a  whim,  a  caprice.  But  had  you 
spoken  to  me  a  year  ago  as  you  do  now,  I  should 
not  be  here." 

Pembroke  remembered  with  a  blush  some  slight 
love-making  episodes,  and  her  tone  stung  him. 

"  I  can  play  the  rascal  if  you  like,"  he  said, 
angrily.  "  I  can  pretend  to  feel  what  I  don't  feel, 
but  I  warn  you,  I  shan't  be  a  pleasant  rascal.  If 
ever  I  take  to  villainy  I  shall  probably  take  to  drink 
and  gambling  too." 

Madame  Koller  sat  down  discontentedly  on  the 
sofa.  When  Pembroke  had  arrived  that  afternoon 


112  THE   BERKELEYS 

her  intention  had  been  to  determine  one  thing  or 
another — for  life  at  The  Beeches  could  not  be 
endured  much  longer.  It  mattered  little  what  old 
Madame  Schmidt  said,  but  her  cousin,  Ahlbcrg,  was 
getting  restive  and  threatened  to  leave  her — and 
she  was  mortally  afraid  of  being  left  in  America 
alone.  But  what  progress  had  she  made  ?  None. 
And  suppose  Pembroke  were  to  leave  that  house 
her  lover,  would  it  not  be  the  greatest  act  of  folly 
she  had  ever  committed  ? — and  she  had  had  her 
follies.  And  so  she  was  tossed  hither  and  thither 
by  prudence  and  feeling,  and  condemning  her  own 
weakness,  yet  tamely  submitted  to  it. 

Meanwhile,  Pembroke  had  decided  for  himself. 
This  thing  could  go  on  no  longer.  He  felt  at  that 
moment  as  if  he  had  had  enough  of  love-making  to 
last  him  for  the  next  ten  years.  And  besides,  he 
had  withstood  enough  to  make  him  feel  that  he 
did  not  care  to  withstand  any  more.  So  he  picked 
up  his  hat  with  an  air  of  great  determination. 

"  I  must  leave  you,"  he  said.  "  Elise,  you  have 
given  me  many  happy  hours,  but  it  would  be  ruin 
for  us  to  become  either  more  or  less  than  friends." 

Madame  Koller  had  thought  herself  thoroughly 
prepared  for  this,  which  her  own  sense  told  her 
was  literally  true.  But  suddenly,  without  a  mo 
ment's  warning,  without  her  own  volition,  and  al 
most  without  her  knowledge,  she  burst  into  violent 
weeping.  Was  it  for  this  she  had  come  the  in 
terminable  distance — that  she  had  suffered  horrors 
of  loneliness  and  ennui?  Alas,  for  her! 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  113 

Pembroke  was  appalled.  Apparently  all  was  to 
do  over  again,  but  there  was  no  longer  any  room 
for  weakness.  His  mind  was  made  up  and  could 
not  be  unmade.  He  only  stood  silent,  therefore, 
biting  his  lip,  while  his  face  grew  crimson. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  hailed  Ahlberg  as 
a  relief — for  at  that  moment  Ahlberg  appeared  on 
the  threshold.  Madame  Koller  pulled  herself  to 
gether  as  quickly  as  she  had  given  way. 

"  Ah,  Louis,  you  are  welcome.  Do  not  go  yet," 
to  Pembroke. 

Pembroke  did  not  take  the  hint.  He  went  im 
mediately. 


114  THE   BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  sudden  pang  which  wrenched  poor  Mr. 
Cole's  heart  when  he  heard  that  Madame  Roller 
would  soon  leave  the  county,  and  the  country  as 
well,  was  vain  suffering.  For  Madame  Koller  did 
not  go.  Old  Madame  Schmidt  for  the  first  time 
became  restless.  Ahlberg  protested  that  he  could 
not  stay  any  longer.  Pembroke  had  become  en 
tirely  at  ease  about  Ahlberg.  Apparently  Ahlberg 
was  in  no  hurry  to  carry  out  that  rash  engagement 
to  fight,  which  Pembroke  regarded  on  his  own  part 
as  a  piece  of  consummate  folly,  and  was  heartily 
ashamed  of.  He  did  not  feel  the  slightest  appre 
hension  that,  if  the  truth  got  out,  his  personal 
courage  would  be  suspected,  because  that  had  been 
tested  during  the  war,  but  he  was  perfectly  willing 
to  let  Ahlberg's  arm  take  as  long  to  recover  as  it 
chose,  and  called  himself  a  fool  every  time  he 
thought  about  the  roadside  quarrel. 

The  ennui  was  nearly  killing  to  Madame  Koller, 
yet  she  stayed  on  under  a  variety  of  pretexts  which 
deceived  everybody,  including  herself. 

She  was  not  well  adapted  for  solitude,  yet  most 
of  the  people  about  bored  her.  Mrs.  Peyton,  she 
considered  as  her  bete  noir,  and  quite  hated  to  see 
the  Peyton  family  carriage  turning  into  the  carriage 
drive  before  the  door.  But  for  her  singing  she 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  115 

would  have  died.  But  just  as  long  as  the  wheezy 
old  grand  piano  in  the  drawing  room  would  hold  to 
gether,  she  would  not  be  quite  friendless.  Pembroke 
had  not  been  to  see  her  since  that  afternoon  when 
she  had  wept  so.  But  she  conveyed  to  him  one  day 
when  she  met  him  at  Isleham,  that  he  need  not  be 
afraid  to  come  to  see  her.  Man  like,  Pembroke 
could  not  resist  this  challenge,  and  went — and  found 
Madame  Koller  received  him  more  like  an  ordinary 
visitor  than  ever  before.  Consequently  he  went 
again.  Another  motive  which  impelled  him  was 
the  talk  that  would  arise  in  the  county  if  he  ceased 
going  to  The  Beeches  at  all.  Everybody  would 
imagine  there  had  been  a  breach,  and  if  a  breach,  a 
former  friendship. 

Cave,  one  day,  met  Madame  Koller  at  Isleham. 
When  she  told  him  of  her  loneliness  he  was  stricken 
with  pity  for  not  having  been  to  see  her.  Like 
Colonel  Berkeley,  he  thought  her  presence  in  Vir 
ginia  was  explained  by  money  troubles,  and  asked 
permission  to  visit  her  mother  and  herself,  Madame 
Schmidt  being  invariably  brought  in  by  Madame 
Koller  as  if  she  were  a  real  person  instead  of  a  mere 
breathing  automaton.  And  so  he  went. 

"  What  a  strange,  fascinating  man  is  your  friend 
Cave,"  she  said  afterward  to  Pembroke  upon  one  of 
his  occasional  formal  visits,  when  their  conversation 
was  always  upon  perfectly  safe  and  general  subjects. 

"  I  never  discovered  any  strange  fascination 
about  him,"  laughed  Pembroke  with  masculine 
practicality. 


Il6  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  He  lives  in  the  woods.  Yet  he  understands  art 
better  than  any  man  I  know." 

"There's  nothing  extraordinary.  He  is  a  highly 
educated  man.  The  doctors  tell  him  he  can't  live 
except  in  the  pine  woods,  but  his  two  rooms  in  his 
log  cabin  are  more  comfortable  than  any  I  have  at 
Malvern." 

"  By  the  way,  you  have  never  invited  me  to  Mal 
vern.  I  used  to  go  there  as  a  girl." 

Pembroke  remembered  a  speech  of  his  friend's, 
Mrs.  Peyton,  to  him  some  time  before. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  French,"  she  had  said,  "  what  a 
dear,  sweet,  amiable  creature  your  mother  was — 
and  your  father  was  a  regular  Trojan  when  he  was 
roused.  I  remember  taking  Eliza  there  for  a  visit 
once,  when  she  was  growing  up,  and  the  singing 
mania  had  just  possessed  her.  She  sung  all  day 
and  nearly  all  night — screech,  screech — bang,  bang 
on  the  piano.  Your  father  almost  danced,  he  was 
so  mad — but  your  dear  mother  was  all  thoughtful- 
ness.  '  My  dear  Sally/  she  would  say  every  day 
laughing.  '  Don't  feel  badly  about  Eliza's  singing, 
and  the  way  Mr.  Pembroke  takes  it.  It  is  the  only, 
chance  John  Cave  has  to  say  a  word  to  Elizabeth.' 
Your  mother  was  highly  in  favor  of  that  match,  I 
can  tell  you,  though  John  had  no  great  fortune — 
and  your  father  was  so  fond  of  him  too,  that  he 
really  imagined  John  was  courting  him,  instead  of 
Elizabeth.  But  I  shortened  my  visit  considerably, 
I  assure  you." 

All  this  flashed  through  Pembroke's  mind  when 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  1 1/ 

Madame  Roller  spoke.  And  then  he  colored 
slightly.  He  was  a  little  ashamed  of  the  dilapida 
tion  of  a  once  fine  country  house.  During  the 
war,  the  place  had  been  raided  and  the  house  fired. 
The  fire  had  been  quickly  extinguished,  but  the 
front  porch  and  a  part  of  one  wing  was  charred. 
He  felt  some  false,  though  natural  shame  at  this, 
particularly  as  Ahlberg,  when  he  and  Pembroke  were 
on  visiting  terms,  had  never  been  to  the  place  with 
out  intimating  that  it  was  queer  they  did  not  have 
the  house  thoroughly  rehabilitated.  But  Pembroke 
had  inherited  a  soul  of  Arab  hospitality,  and  he 
answered  promptly  : 

"  Whenever  you  and  Madame  Schmidt  will  honor 
me  with  a  visit,  you  will  be  most  welcome." 
"  And  will  you  ask  Mr.  Cave,  too  ?  " 
"  Certainly.  Mr.  Cave  is  my  closest  friend." 
Just  as  on  a  similar  occasion,  Colonel  Berkeley 
had  incurred  Olivia's  wrath  by  inviting  the  Pem- 
brokes  to  meet  Madame  Roller,  so  Miles,  mean 
ing  to  do  the  most  agreeable  thing  in  the  world, 
informed  Pembroke  a  day  or  two  after  he  had  men 
tioned  that  Madame  Roller  and  her  mother  and 
Cave  were  coming  to  luncheon  on  Tuesday,  that 
meeting  Colonel  Berkeley,  he,  Miles,  had  invited 
the  Colonel  and  Olivia  over  for  Tuesday,  also — to 
meet  the  others.  Miles  walked  away,  whistling  to 
his  dog,  serenely  unconscious  of  the  chagrin  that 
overwhelmed  Pembroke  at  this  apparently  harmless 
information. 

Pembroke   did  not  swear,  although  he  was  pro- 


Il8  THE   BERKELEYS 

fane  upon  occasions — -but  when  Aunt  Keturah,  his 
old  nurse  and  housekeeper,  came  to  him  the  next 
minute  to  ask  something  about  the  proposed  fes 
tivity,  his  answer  was, 

"Go  to  the  devil!  " 

Aunt  Keturah  was  naturally  offended  at  this. 

"  I  didn't  never  think  my  mistis'  son  gwin'  talk  dat 
discontemptuous  way  to  de  mammy  dat  nuss  him  and 
Miss  'Lizbeth,  and  Marse  Miles,  an'  lay  yo*  par  out, 
and  your  mar,  an'  set  by  Miss  'Lizbeth  an'  hole  her 
han'  'twell  de  bref  lef  her  body —  For  your  true 
African  never  omits  to  mention  any  family  tragedy 
or  sorrow  or  other  lugubrious  proceedings  in  which 
he  or  she  may  have  had  a  part. 

"  Well,  old  lady,  I  didn't  exactly  mean  what  I 
said — 

"  Well,  den,  you  hadn't  orter  said  nuttin'  like 
it — " 

"  I  know  it.  If  you  were  to  go  to  the  devil,  I 
don't  know  what  would  become  of  me." 

"  Dat's  so,  honey.  An'  ain't  no  wife  gwi*  do  fur 
you  like  yo'  po'  ole  mammy" — for  the  possibility 
of  Pembroke's  marriage  was  extremely  distasteful 
to  Keturah,  as  portending  her  downfall  and  surren 
der  of  the  keys. 

Colonel  Berkeley  had  often  been  to  Malvern 
since  his  return,  but  Olivia,  not  since  she  was  a 
child,  when  she  would  go  over  with  her  mother, 
and  played  in  the  garden  with  Miles.  Then  Pem 
broke  was  a  tall,  overbearing  boy,  a  remorseless  tease, 
whose  only  redeeming  trait,  in  her  childish  eyes, 


AND  THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  1 19 

was  the  wonderful  stories  he  could  tell  out  of 
books — when  he  chose.  Elizabeth  she  remem 
bered — a  beautiful,  haughty  girl,  who  alternately 
snubbed  and  petted  her.  It  seemed  so  long  ago. 
They  were  to  come  to  luncheon  at  two  o'clock. 
When  Olivia  and  her  father  drove  up,  with  Cave  in 
the  carriage  with  them,  whom  they  had  picked  up 
on  the  road,  Pembroke  had  been  called  off  for  a 
moment  by  a  client  who  was  interviewing  him  in 
"  the  office"-  -  that  necessary  adjunct  of  every  pro 
fessional  man,  and  most  of  the  gentry  in  Virginia,  a 
comfortable  one  or  two-roomed  building,  a  little 
back  of  the  "  great  house,"  where  the  master  kept 
his  books  and  accounts,  his  guns  and  hunting  para 
phernalia,  where  his  dogs  had  the  right  ^f  entry 
and  his  women  kind  had  not. 

The  house  had  once  been  imposing.  Two  wings 
rambled  off  from  the  center  building.  One  was  over 
grown  with  ivy,  and  looked  both  comfortable  and 
picturesque  under  the  tall  and  branching  elms.  The 
other  was  gaunt  and  scorched  and  weather-beaten. 
The  heat  had  cracked  the  windows  and  had  forced 
the  bricks  out  of  place.  One  pillar  of  the  porch  on 
that  side  was  gone.  The  damage  to  the  house  was 
really  not  great,  but  apparently  it  was  ruined. 

Miles  met  them  at  the  door — Miles,  once  the 
handsome  scapegrace,  and  now  the  blighted,  the 
unfortunate.  The  spectacle  of  his  marred  face  was 
in  melancholy  keeping  with  what  surrounded  him. 

He  was  genuinely  glad  to  see  them.  He  came 
down  the  steps,  and  gallantly  and  even  with  a  cer- 


120  THE  BERKELEYS 

tain  grace,  offered  Olivia  his  one  arm  to  alight  from 
the  carriage.  The  Colonel  scrambled  out  and  im 
mediately  seized  Miles. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  driving  through  this  plantation 
to-day  brought  back  to  me  your  father's  purchase 
of  that  woodland  down  by  the  creek  in  'forty-six." 

Anything  that  occurred  in  'forty-six  had  such  a 
charm  for  Colonel  Berkeley  that  Miles  knew  he  was 
in  for  it.  The  Colonel  took  his  arm  and  trotted  up 
and  down  the  portico,  pointing  out  various  ways  in 
which  the  late  Mr.  Pembroke,  his  devoted  friend, 
had  neglected  the  Colonel's  advice  in  regard  to 
farming,  and  the  numberless  evils  that  had  resulted 
therefrom.  Colonel  Berkeley  entirely  forgot  that 
his  own  farming  was  not  above  reproach,  and  if  he 
had  been  reduced  to  his  land  for  a  living,  instead  of 
that  lucky  property  at  the  North  that  he  had  so 
strenuously  tried  to  make  way  with,  he  would  in 
deed  have  been  in  a  bad  way.  But  the  Colonel  was 
a  famous  farmer  on  paper,  was  president  of  the 
Farmers'  Club  of  the  county,  had  published  several 
pamphlets  on  subsoil  drainage,  and  was  a  frequent 
contributor  to  the  columns  of  the  Southern  Planter 
before  the  war. 

Cave  and  Olivia,  finding  themselves  temporarily 
thrown  on  each  other,  concluded  to  walk  through 
the  grounds.  Madame  Roller  and  her  mother  had 
not  yet  arrived,  and  under  the  huge  trees,  a  little 
distance  off,  they  could  see  Pembroke  talking  with 
his  visitor,  as  the  latter  mounted  his  horse  to  ride 
away. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  121 

In  former  days  the  grounds,  like  the  house,  had 
been  fine,  but  now  they  were  completely  overgrown 
and  neglected,  yet,  there  was  a  kind  of  beauty  in 
their  very  wildness. 

"  How  charming  this  wilderness  of  roses  will  be 
when  they  are  in  bloom,"  said  Olivia,  as  they 
walked  through  what  had  once  been  a  rose  walk, 
stiff  and  prim,  now  rioting  in  lush  luxuriance.  "  I 
remember  it  quite  straight,  and  the  rose  trees  trim 
med  up  all  in  exactly  the  same  shape — and  see,  the 
roses  have  climbed  so  over  the  arbor  that  we  can't 
get  in." 

Cave  said  nothing.  The  one  love  of  his  life  was 
born  and  lived  and  died  in  this  home.  He  could 
see,  through  a  rift  in  the  trees,  the  brick  wall  around 
the  burying  ground  where  Elizabeth  lay.  It  was 
fallen  away  in  many  places,  and  the  sheep  browsed 
peacefully  over  the  mounds.  The  marble  slab  over 
Elizabeth  was  as  yet  new  and  white.  Still  Olivia 
did  not  jar  on  him  at  that  moment.  She  was  in 
nately  sympathetic. 

They  paced  slowly  about  the  graveled  paths  over 
grown  in  many  places  with  weeds,  and  among  a  vig 
orous  growth  of  young  shrubbery,  unpruned  and 
undipped.  She  pulled  a  great  branch  of  pink  dog 
wood  from  a  transplanted  forest  tree,  and  swayed 
it  thoughtfully  as  she  walked.  Presently  they  saw 
Pembroke  coming  to  look  for  them.  As  he  ap 
proached  and  took  Olivia's  hand,  a  color  as  deli 
cate  as  that  of  the  dogwood  blossoms  she  held  in 
her  other  hand,  mounted  to  her  face. 


122  THE   BERKELEYS 

Then  they  turned  back  leisurely  toward  the 
house.  At  one  spot,  under  a  great  linden  tree,  was 
the  basin  of  a  fountain,  all  yellow  and  choked  with 
the  trailing  arbutus,  which  grew  with  the  wild  pro 
fusion  that  marks  it  in  the  depth  of  the  woods. 
The  fountain  was  long  since  gone.  Pembroke 
plucked  some  of  the  arbutus  and  handed  it  to 
Olivia,  taking  from  her  the  dogwood  branch  at  the 
same  time  and  throwing  it  away. 

"The  arbutus  has  a  perfume — the  dogwood  has 
none — and  a  flower  without  perfume  is  like  a  woman 
without  sentiment,"  he  said  gayly.  As  they  stood 
still  for  a  moment,  Olivia  suddenly  exclaimed  to 
Pembroke  : 

"  Oh,  I  remember  something  about  this  fountain 
— don't  you  ?  "  Then  they  both  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  is  it?"  asked  Cave. 

"  I  was  staying  here  once  with  mamma,  when  I 
was  a  little  girl — 

"  I  picked  you  up  and  held  you  over  the  basin  to 
scare  you." 

"  And  dropped  me  in,  and — 

"  Went  gallantly  to  the  rescue  and  dragged  you 
out — 

"And  your  mother  sent  you  to  bed  without  your 
dinner." 

"  I  remember  thinking  you  were  the  most  comi 
cal  looking  object  I  ever  saw  with  your  curls  drip 
ping,  and  I  was  particularly  amused  at  the  chatter 
ing  of  your  teeth.  What  remorseless  wretches 
boys  are  !  " 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  123 

"  I  don't  believe  you  meant  to  let  me  slip." 

"  You  were  splashing  in  the  basin  before  I  knew 
it.  But  it  seemed  a  delicious  piece  of  mischief  then, 
and  Miles'  terror  that  his  turn  would  come  next — 
Elizabeth  boxed  my  ears  for  it." 

For  the  first  time  since  their  return  home  each 
came  back  to  something  like  the  old  boy  and  girl 
frankness,  and  they  laughed  like  children. 

"  How  I  loved  to  come  here  when  I  was  a  little 
girl.  Your  mother  was  certainly  the  most  delight 
ful  companion  for  a  child.  I  remember  how  she 
allowed  me  to  brush  her  hair,  it  was  so  long  and 
beautiful.  I  suppose  my  efforts  were  torture  to 
her;  how  splendid  she  looked  when  she  was  dressed 
for  a  ball." 

Pembroke  was  touched  to  the  heart.  His  mother 
who  died  like  Elizabeth,  in  her  youth  and  beauty, 
was  only  seventeen  years  older  than  himself.  He 
remembered  that  she  had  been  a  little  more  than  a 
g*rl  when  he,  her  eldest  son,  reached  up  to  her 
shoulder.  Olivia  and  her  father  were  always  asso 
ciated  with  his  mother.  Few  persons  remembered 
her,  he  thought  bitterly.  He  had  imagined  that  it 
was  impossible  for  any  one  to  know  her  without 
being  inspired  with  the  profound  admiration  he  felt, 
along  with  his  affection  for  her.  But  naturally  it 
was  not  so — and  he  felt  an  inexpressible  pride  in 
hearing  Olivia's  words.  They  were  not  many,  but 
he  knew  they  came  from  her  heart. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  as  they  turned  away 
and  pursued  the  path  to  the  house  while  Cave 


124  THE   BERKELEYS 

dropped  behind,  "  I  think  you  are  a  little  like  my 
mother.  Petrarch  says  so  too,  and  Petrarch  is  a 
physiognomist." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  Olivia,  neverthless  coloring 
with  pleasure.  "  Your  mother  was  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  the  world,  and  most  command 
ing  in  her  beauty.  I  don't  know  anybody  at  all 
like  her." 

They  were  now  near  the  house,  and  looking  up, 
Pembroke  saw  Madame  Koller  and  the  bundle 
of  wrappings  she  called  mamma  descending  from 
the  carriage.  A  little  unpleasant  shock  came  upon 
him.  The  ladies  from  The  Beeches  were  out  of 
harmony  just  then. 

Nevertheless  they  were  very  cordially  greeted. 
Although  the  day  was  spring-like,  Madame  Keller's 
gown  was  trimmed  with  fur,  and  she  cowered  close 
to  the  fire  in  the  big,  draughty  drawing  room.  Pem 
broke  fancied  that  Madame  Schmidt's  fondness  for 
wrappings  would  eventually  descend  to  her  daugh 
ter.  But  Madame  Koller  was  very  handsome.  The 
quiet  winter,  the  country  air  had  made  her  much 
younger  and  fresher.  And  then,  most  women  are 
much  better  looking  when  they  are  in  love.  They 
live  in  a  perpetual  agitation,  which  gives  a  strange 
brightness  to  the  eye,  a  softness  to  the  smile. 
They  are  impelled  toward  their  natural  role,  which 
is  acting.  Madame  Koller  had  the  benefit  of  all 
this. 

The  luncheon  passed  off  very  well.  In  the  house 
was  that  queer  mixture  of  shabbiness  and  splendor 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  125 

common  in  Virginia  country  houses.  At  table 
they  sat  in  common  Windsor  chairs,  but  ate  off 
Sevres  china  ;  a  rickety  sideboard  was  loaded  down 
with  plate.  The  Virginians  were,  as  a  rule,  indif 
ferent  to  comforts,  but  luxuries  they  must  have. 
After  the  luncheon  Pembroke  took  them  to  the 
library,  and  through  such  of  the  house  as  was 
habitable.  Madame  Roller  raved  over  the  fine 
editions  of  books,  the  old  mahogany  furniture,  the 
antique  portraits  intermingled  with  daubs  of  later 
ancestors — the  whole  an  epitome  of  the  careless 
pleasure-loving,  disjointed  life  of  the  dead  and 
gone  Virginia — when  the  people  stocked  their 
cellars  with  the  best  wines  and  slept  on  husk  mat 
tresses — where  the  most  elaborate  etiquette  was 
maintained  in  the  midst  of  incongruities  of  living 
most  startling.  It  had  never  ceased  to  be  puzzling 
to  Madame  Koller.  She  admired,  as  well  she 
might,  a  lovely  girlish  portrait  of  Pembroke's 
mother  which  hung  in  the  drawing  room.  There 
was  a  piteous  likeness  between  it  and  the  one 
unscarred  side  of  Miles'  face. 

Miles  had  kept  close  to  Olivia — he  was  not  quite 
easy  with  Madame  Koller.  As  for  Madame  Schmidt, 
he  had  in  vain  tried  to  get  something  out  of  her,  but 
the  old  lady  was  obviously  so  much  more  comfort 
able  seated  by  the  drawing-room  fire,  well  wrapped 
up,  with  her  feet  on  the  footstool,  and  nobody  to 
distract  her  attention  from  keeping  warm,  that  she 
was  considerately  left  to  herself. 

But  Madame  Koller  did  not  enjoy  the  day,  as, 
9 


126  THE  BERKELEYS 

indeed,  she  did  not  at  that  phase  of  her  existence 
enjoy  anything.  She  had  fancied  she  could  con 
quer  her  heart,  in  the  presence  of  its  object,  and 
with  a  dangerous  rival  in  the  foreground.  Love 
finds  a  mighty  helper  in  self-love.  Whatever  de 
termination  she  might  once  have  had  to  relinquish 
Pembroke  melted  away  when  she  saw  that  Olivia 
Berkeley  and  he  were  quietly  slipping  into  a  state 
of  feeling  that  would  turn  to  something  stronger 
in  a  moment  of  time.  And  naturally  she  thought 
no  woman  alive  could  withstand  the  man  that  had 
conquered  her. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  carriages 
drove  off.  Olivia  said  truly  she  had  had  a  very 
happy  day.  Not  so  truly  said  Madame  Roller. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  I2/ 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  winter  had  lapsed  into  spring.  It  was  April 
— the  May  of  colder  climates.  In  a  week — a  day — 
Nature  had  rushed  into  bloom.  Even  Madame  Kol- 
ler,  who  cared  little  for  these  things,  was  awakened 
to  the  beauty  surrounding  her.  She  spent  hours 
walking  in  the  fresh  morning  air  and  thinking — 
thinking.  The  few  times  she  saw  Pembroke,  and  the 
quiet,  formal  courtesy  with  which  he  treated  her  was 
as  wind  to  flame.  In  his  absence  she  was  perpetually 
thinking  of  him,  devising  wild  and  extravagant  meth 
ods  of  winning  him.  It  was  her  pride,  she  now  per 
suaded  herself,  that  needed  to  be  avenged.  Again 
throwing  prudence  wildly  aside,  she  boldly  acknowl 
edged  to  herself  that  it  was  love.  For  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  was  thrown  upon  herself — and  a  very 
dangerous  and  undisciplined  self  it  was.  Sometimes 
she  blamed  him  less  than  he  deserved  for  whatever 
folly  he  had  been  a  party  to — and  again  she  blamed 
him  more.  Madame  Koller  was  fast  working  her 
self  up  to  the  point  of  an  explosion. 

Toward  dusk  one  evening,  as  Olivia  Berkeley 
sat  in  the  dim  drawing-room  where  a  little  fire 
crackled  on  the  hearth,  although  the  windows  were 
opened  to  the  purple  twilight  outside,  she  heard 
a  light  step  upon  the  portico — and  the  next  mo 
ment,  Madame  Koller  walked  in. 


128  THE   BERKELEYS 

Olivia  received  a  kind  of  shock  when  she  recog 
nized  her.  Madame  Roller's  manner  to  her  had 
been  queer  of  late,  but  she  spoke  to  her  very  cor 
dially.  Very  likely  she  was  wearied  and  ennuye"d 
at  home — and  had  to  come  to  Olivia  in  the  des 
peration  of  loneliness. 

Madame  Roller,  in  response  to  Olivia's  hospit 
able  offer,  allowed  her  to  remove  the  long  furred 
mantle,  and  place  it  on  a  chair.  She  looked  at 
Olivia  fixedly.  Her  eyes  were  large  and  very 
bright. 

"  You  are  surprised  that  I  should  come  here  at 
this  time,  Miss  Berkeley?" 

"  I  am  very  pleased,  Madame  Roller." 

"  You  are  surprised.  However,  is  it  not  strange 
how  in  moments  of  great  agitation,  trifles  will  come 
to  one's  mind  ?  It  reminds  me  even  now,  how  all 
the  people  in  this  county  are  amazed  at  simple — 
very  simple  things.  There  is  nothing  in  my  walking 
a  mile  or  two  to  see  you — I  have  a  servant  outside 
— but  you,  like  the  rest,  regard  it  as  very  queer." 

"  As  you  please,  Madame  Roller,"  answered 
Olivia. 

"  Still  more  strange  will  you  think  it  when  I  tell 
you  my  errand — for,  although  you  are  no  fool, 
Olivia  Berkeley,  you  have  no  heart." 

"Did  you  take  so  much  trouble  in  order  to  tell 
me  this  to-night  ? "  answered  Olivia  pleasantly 
enough,  but  with  that  little  shade  of  sarcasm  in  her 
voice  that  is  infuriating  to  people  in  deadly  earnest. 

"  Not   entirely.     But    I  am  glad   you    have   no 


AND  THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  129 

heart  to  suffer.  I  would  not  wish  any  one  to  suffer 
as  I  do." 

Madame  Koller  paused  a  moment. 

"You  know  why  I  suffer.  It  is  not  my  purpose 
to  say  how  much  Pembroke  is  to  blame.  I  do  not 
know  how  you  cold,  self-contained  people  consider 
these  things.  He  did  not  take  the  trouble  to 
undeceive  me,  when  I  supposed  he  loved  me  until 
a  few  months  ago — until  you,  in  short,  appeared." 

"  Madame  Koller,"  said  Olivia,  haughtily,  "  may 
I  beg  that  you  will  not  bring  my  name  into  your 
personal  affairs  or  Pembroke's  either?  While,  I  am 
under  no  obligation  to  tell  you,  I  have  no  hesita 
tion  in  saying  that  there  is  nothing  whatever  be 
tween  him  and  me  that  the  whole  world  may  not 
know.  He  is  not  my  lover  and  never  has  been." 

Madame  Koller  looked  at  Olivia  and  laughed 
mirthlessly. 

"  You  sit  there  and  tell  me  that  as  coolly  as  if 
you  expected  me  to  go  home  without  saying  an 
other  word.  But  I  will  not  go,  and  I  will  speak. 
However,  there  is  nothing  that  you  need  be  angry 
about.  Only  this.  Pembroke,  you  see,  is  poor. 
He  has  great  gifts,  but  they  will  not  bring  him 
money  for  many  years.  He  is  extravagant — he  is 
proud.  He  wants  to  go  into  public  life — that  he 
has  told  me.  Imagine  the  terrible  future  of  poverty 
and  debt  before  him  if  he  marries  without  a  fortune. 
I  can  save  him  from  all  this.  I  am  rich  enough 
for  both.  Say  that  you  will  not  stand  in  my  way. 
I  will  remove  the  only  obstacle  in  his  path.  I  will 


130  THE   BERKELEYS 

give  up  everything.  I  will  stay  in  this  tedious 
land  for  his  sake.  He  shall  pursue  any  career  he 
chooses.  Think  well  what  it  is  to  rob  such  a  man 
of  his  only  chance  of  fortune  and  ease.  For  if  he 
does  not  marry  me,  he  will  certainly  marry  you." 

Olivia  sat  upright  in  her  chair  completely  dazed. 
She  forgot  to  be  indignant.  For  the  first  time  the 
truth  enunciated  by  Madame  Roller  came  home  to 
her.  Pembroke  was  poor.  He  was  extravagant. 
He  was  bent  upon  entering  politics.  Olivia  had, 
as  most  women,  a  practical  sympathy.  She  knew 
very  well  the  horrors  of  poverty  for  such  a  man, 
and  her  portion  would  be  but  small. 

Madame  Roller,  seeing  that  she  had  made  her 
impression,  waited— and  after  a  while  continued. 
Her  voice  was  low  and  very  sweet.  She  seemed 
pleading  for  Pembroke's  salvation. 

"  Pembroke,  you  know,  is  already  deeply  in  debt. 
He  cannot  readily  accommodate  himself  to  the 
style  of  provincial  living  here.  He  would  say  all 
these  things  are  trifles.  I  tell  you,  Olivia  Berkeley, 
they  are  not  trifles.  They  are  second  nature.  Is 
it  not  cruel  of  God  to  make  us  so  dependent  on 
these  wretched  things  ?  It  was  for  these  same 
wretched  things  that  I  endured  torture  for  years — 
for  money  and  clothes  and  carriages — just  such 
things  as  that." 

Olivia  by  a  great  effort  recovered  herself. 

"  What  you  say  is  true,  Madame  Roller.  But  I 
will  not — how  can  you  ask  me  such  things  about  a 
man  who  has  never — never  " — she  stopped  at  a  loss 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  131 

to  express  her  meaning,  which  implied  a  reproach 
at  Madame  Keller's  want  of  delicacy. 

Madame  Roller  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"What  are  promises?"  she  cried.  "Neverthe 
less,  I  want  you  to  see  that  if  you  marry  Pembroke 
it  will  be  his  ruin.  It  would  be  most  wicked  selfish 
ness." 

"  Madame  Roller,"  answered  Olivia,  rising,  "  I 
will  not  listen  to  any  more." 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  responded  Mad 
ame  Roller,  rising  too,  and  drawing  her  cloak 
around  her.  "  I  did  not  expect  more  from  you 
than  conventional  tolerance.  Had  you  a  heart  you 
would  have  felt  for  me — for  him — for  yourself. 
Can  you  conceive  of  anything  more  noble,  or  more 
piteous  than  two  women,  one  of  whom  must  make 
a  great  sacrifice  for  the  man  they  both  love — 
come,  you  need  not  deny  it,  or  lose  your  temper — 
because  I  see  you  have  a  temper."  Olivia's  air  and 
manner  did  certainly  indicate  dangerous  possibili 
ties.  "  I  repeat,  of  two  women  as  we  are,  the  one 
makes  the  sacrifice — the  other  feels  it  to  the  quick. 
You  talk  though  like  a  boarding-school  miss.  You 
might  have  got  all  the  phrases  you  have  used  out  of 
a  book  of  deportment." 

"  I  am  as  sincere  as  you  are,  Madame  Roller," 
answered  Olivia,  in  a  voice  of  restrained  anger.  "  I 
cannot  help  it  that  I  am  more  reserved.  I  could  no 
more  say  what  you  have  said —  '  here  a  deep  flush 
came  into  Olivia's  face — "  than  I  could  commit  mur 
der." 


132  THE   BERKELEYS 

Madame  Roller  stood  up,  and  as  she  did  so,  she 
sighed  deeply.  Olivia,  for  the  first  time,  felt  sorry 
for  her. 

"  Women  who  love  are  foolish,  desperate,  suici 
dal — anything.  I  do  not  think  that  you  could  ever 
love." 

"  Do  you  think  that  ?  I  know  better.  I  could  love 
— but  not  like — not  like — 

"  Not  like  me?" 

"  Yes,  since  you  have  said  it.  Something — some 
thing — would  hold  me  back  from  what  you  speak  of 
so  openly." 

"  I  always  said  you  were  as  nearly  without  feel 
ing  as  the  rest  of  the  people  here.  Elizabeth  Pem 
broke  is  the  only  woman  I  know  of,  among  all  of 
us,  that  ever  really  loved.  But  see  how  curious  it 
was  with  her.  She  defied  her  father's  curses — yet 
she  did  not  have  the  nerve  to  marry  the  man  she 
truly  loved,  because  he  happened  to  be  an  officer  in 
the  Union  army,  for  fear  the  Peytons  and  the  Coles, 
and  the  Lesters,  and  the  rest  of  them,  would  have 
turned  their  backs  on  her  at  church.  Bah  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  want  of  nerve  on  Elizabeth 
Pembroke's  part,"  replied  Olivia.  "  She  was  not 
born  to  be  happy." 

"  Nor  was  I,"  cried  Madame  Koller,  despondently. 

There  was  no  more  said  for  a  minute  or  two. 
Then  Madame  Koller  spoke  again. 

"  Now  you  know  what  I  feel.  I  don't  ask  any 
thing  for  myself-^I  only  wish  to  show  you  that 
you  will  ruin  Pembroke  if  you  marry  him." 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  133 

An  angry  light  came  into  Olivia's  eyes.  She 
stood  up,  straight  and  stern,  and  absolutely  grew 
taller  as  she  looked  fixedly  at  Madame  Koller. 

"  This  is  intolerable,"  she  said.  "  There  is  noth 
ing — absolutely  nothing — between  Pembroke  and 
me,  and  yet  I  am  subjected  to  this  cross-question- 
ing." 

"  You  would  complain  a  great  deal  more  of  it  if 
there  were  anything  between  you,"  answered 
Madame  Koller,  not  without  a  glimpse  of  grotesque 
humor.  "  But  now  you  know  where  I  stand — and 
let  me  tell  you,  Olivia  Berkeley,  Pembroke  is  not 
guiltless  toward  me,  however  he  would  pretend  it" 
— and  without  waiting  for  the  angry  reply  on  Olivia's 
lips,  she  vanished  through  the  open  door. 

All  that  evening,  as  Olivia  sat  with  a  book  on 
her  lap,  not  reading,  but  watching  the  flame  on  the 
broad  hearth,  she  was  turning  over  in  her  mind 
what  Madame  Koller  had  said.  It  had  disturbed 
her  very  much.  It  had  not  raised  Pembroke  at 
all  in  her  esteem.  She  begun,  nevertheless,  to 
think  with  pity  over  the  wretchedness  of  his  fate 
should  he  be  condemned  to  poverty.  She  fancied 
him  harassed  by  debts,  by  Miles'  helplessness.  Her 
tender  heart  filled  with  pity. 

"Olivia,  my  love,"  said  the  Colonel,  emerging 
from  behind  his  newspaper  for  a  moment.  "  Pem 
broke  means  to  try  for  the  nomination  to  Congress 
— and  Cave  tells  me  he  is  pretty  sure  to  get  it. 
Great  pity.  A  man  who  goes  into  public  life  with 
out  a  competence  dooms  himself  to  a  dog's  life  for 


134  THE  BERKELEYS 

the  remainder  of  his  days.  It  ruined  Pembroke's 
father  thirty  years  ago." 

Olivia  started.  This  was  like  an  oracle  answer 
ing  her  own  thoughts. 

She  thought,  with  a  little  bitter  smile  that  it  did 
not  require  much  generosity  to  give  up  a  man  on 
whom  one  had  no  claim,  and  laughed  at  the  idea 
of  a  struggle.  At  all  events  she  would  forget  it 
all.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  forget  though.  The 
thought  stayed  with  her,  and  went  to  bed  with  her, 
and  rose  with  her  next  morning. 

Meanwhile,  alas,  for  Madame  Roller.  When  she 
came  out,  she  looked  around  in  vain  for  the  negro 
woman  who  had  come  with  her.  She  was  not  to  be 
seen.  They  had  come  by  the  path  that  led  through 
the  fields,  which  made  it  only  a  mile  from  The 
Beeches  to  Isleham,  but  in  going  back,  she  missed 
her  way — and  then  being  a  little  afraid  of  the  ne 
groes,  she  went  "  around  the  road,"  as  they  called  it. 
At  the  first  gate,  a  man  galloped  out  of  the  darkness. 
It  was  Pembroke.  He  recognized  her  at  once,  and 
got  off  his  horse. 

"  You  here,"  he  cried  in  surprise — "  at  this  hour  " 
—for  it  was  well  on  to  seven  o'clock,  and  Madame 
Roller  was  not  noted  for  her  fondness  for  walking. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  at  Isleham  ?  "  he  asked 
— for  she  could  not  have  come  from  anywhere  else. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  she  replied  nervously.  "  I— 
I — went  over  to  see  Olivia  Berkeley,"  she  added 
boldly. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  135 

Pembroke  could  say  nothing.  After  a  pause, 
Madame  Roller  burst  out. 

"  Pembroke,  that  girl  is  made  of  iron.  She  cares 
nothing  for  you — for  anybody  but  herself." 

"  And  did  you  find  out  any  of  those  things  by 
asking  her?  "  he  inquired. 

The  twilight  was  so  upon  them  that  Madame 
Koller  could  not  well  see  Pembroke's  face,  but  she 
realized  the  tone  of  suppressed  rage  in  his  voice. 
She  herself  had  a  temper  that  was  stormy,  and  it 
flamed  out  at  that  tone. 

"  Yes,  I  asked  her.  Are  you  a  man  that  you  can 
reproach  me  with  it  ?  " 

It  is  difficult  for  a  man,  if  he  is  a  gentleman,  to 
express  his  wrath  toward  a  woman.  Pembroke 
was  infuriated  at  the  idea  that  Madame  Koller 
should  go  to  Olivia  Berkeley  and  ask  prying  ques 
tions.  He  ground  his  teeth  with  wrath  as  he 
looked  at  Madame  Koller  standing  before  him,  in 
the  half  light. 

"  What  a  price  I  have  had  to  pay  for  folly,"  he 
cried  furiously.  "  A  little  damned  love-making  in  a 
garden — "  he  was  so  savage  that  he  was  not  choice 
of  words  and  fell  into  profanity  as  men  naturally 
do — "  a  half  dozen  notes  and  bouquets — Great 
God  !  Is  there  anything  in  that  which  should  be  a 
curse  to  a  man's  whole  life !  And  I  love  Olivia 
Berkeley.  I  could  make  her  love  me,  but — but  for 
you." 

His  violence  sobered  Madame  Koller  at  once. 

"  There  was  not  much,  certainly,"  she  responded 


136  THE   BERKELEYS 

calmly,  "  The  love-making  in  the  garden  and  the 
bouquets  would  have  been  little  enough — but  un 
fortunately  hearts  are  so  perverse.  A  great  many 
are  broken  by  such  trifles.  It  was  very  amusing  to 
you  but  not  so  amusing  altogether  to  me." 

Pembroke  began  to  be  ashamed  of  himself.  But 
he  was  still  magnanimous  enough  not  to  tell  her 
that  she  had  taken  a  queer  course  about  those 
things. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  to  blame,"  he  said  with  sulky 
rage  after  a  moment.  "  I'm  willing  to  shoulder  all 
the  blame  there  is — but  why  should  Olivia  Berkeley 
be  insulted  and  annoyed  by  this  kind  of  thing  ? 
Do  you  think  you  will  ever  accomplish  anything 
by — "  he  stopped  and  blushed  both  for  himself  and 
her. 

"One  thing  is  certain,"  he  continued.  "After 
what  you  have  said  to  Olivia  Berkeley,  questioning 
her  about  me,  as  you  have  admitted,  I  shall  simply 
carry  out  my  intention  of  asking  her  to  marry  me. 
She  shall  at  least  know  the  truth  from  me.  But  I 
think  my  chances  are  desperate.  Pshaw  !  I  have 
no  chance  at  all.  It's  rather  grotesque,  don't  you 
think,  fora  man  to  ask  a  woman  to  marry  him  when 
he  knows  that  she  will  throw  him  over  and  despise 
him  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart?" 

"  That  I  must  decline  to  discuss  with  you,"  quietly 
answered  Madam  Roller.  She  was  indeed  quiet, 
for  at  last — and  in  an  instant,  she  realized  that  she 
must  forever  give  up  Pembroke.  All  that  long 
journey  was  for  nothing — all  those  months  of 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  137 

wretched  loneliness,  of  still  more  wretched  hopes 
and  fears,  were  in  vain.  She  heard  Pembroke 
saying : 

"You  had  best  let  me  see  you  home.  It  is  too 
late  for  you  to  be  out  alone." 

"  You  will  not,"  she  replied.  "  I  will  not  permit 
you,  after  what  you  have  said,  to  go  one  step 
with  me." 

Pembroke  felt  thoroughly  ashamed.  It  was  one 
of  the  incidents  of  his  association  with  Madame 
Koller  and  Ahlberg  that  they  always  made  him 
say  and  do  things  he  was  ashamed  of.  In  short, 
they  demoralized  him.  He  had  been  betrayed 
by  temper  and  by  circumstances  into  things 
that  were  utterly  against  his  self-respect  —  like 
this  ebullition  of  rage  against  a  woman.  In  the 
plenitude  of  his  remorse  he  was  humble  to  the  last 
degree. 

"  May  I,"  he  asked — "  may  I,  at  least  accompany 
you  to  your  own  grounds  ?  It  is  really  not  safe  for 
you." 

Madame  Koller  turned  upon  him  and  stamped 
her  foot. 

"  No,  no — always  no.  Do  you  think  there  is 
any  danger  on  earth  from  which  I  would  accept 
your  protection?  Go  to  Olivia  Berkeley.  She 
would  marry  you  in  your  poverty  if  it  suited  her 
whim,  and  be  a  millstone  around  your  neck.  Go 
to  her,  I  say." 

Pembroke  watched  her  figure  disappearing  in  the 
dusk  along  the  faint  white  line  of  the  road.  He 


138  THE   BERKELEYS 

stood  still  with  his  horse's  bridle  in  his  hand,  turn 
ing  over  bitter  things  in  his  mind.  He  thought  he 
would  not  go  to  Isleham  that  night.  He  was 
depressed  and  conscience-stricken,  and  in  no  lover- 
like  mood.  He  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly 
back  to  Malvern. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  139 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHEN  two  weeks  had  passed,  Pembroke  still  had 
not  gone  to  Isleham — but  in  that  time  much  had 
happened.  The  congressional  convention  had  been 
held,  and  the  ball  had  been  opened  for  him  by  Cave 
with  great  brilliancy  and  power — and  after  a  hard 
fight  of  two  days,  Pembroke  had  got  the  nomina 
tion  for  Congress.  It  was  of  infinite  satisfaction  to 
him  in  many  ways.  First  because  of  the  honor^ 
which  he  honestly  coveted — and  again  because  of 
the  ready  money  his  election  would  bring.  Modest 
as  a  congressional  salary  would  be,  it  was  at  least 
in  cash — and  that  was  what  he  most  needed  then. 
He  did  not  have  a  walk  over.  The  parties  were 
about  evenly  divided,  and  it  was  known  that  the 
canvass  would  be  close  and  exciting.  Pembroke 
warmed  to  his  work  when  he  knew  this.  It  was 
like  Bob  Henry's  trial — it  took  hold  of  his  intellect 
ual  nature.  He  was  called  magnetic — and  he  had 
a  nerve  power,  a  certain  originality  about  him  that 
captivated  his  audiences. 

There  is  nothing  that  a  mixed  crowd  of  whites 
and  blacks  at  the  South  so  much  hates  as  a  dema 
gogue.  Especially  is  this  the  case  with  the  "  poor 
whites"  and  the  negroes.  It  was  from  them  that 
Pembroke  knew  he  must  get  the  votes  to  elect. 


I4O  THE   BERKELEYS 

When  he  appeared  on  the  hustings,  he  was  the 
same  easy,  gentlemanly  fellow  as  in  a  drawing  room. 
He  slapped  no  man  on  the  back,  nor  offered  treats, 
nor  was  there  any  change  in  his  manner.  He  was 
naturally  affable,  and  he  made  it  his  object  to  win 
the  good  will  of  his  hearers  through  their  enlighten 
ment,  not  their  prejudices.  The  Bob  Henry  episode 
did  him  immense  service.  A  great  revolution  had 
taken  place  in  regard  to  Bob  Henry.  As,  when  he 
had  been  poor  and  in  prison  and  friendless  and  sus 
pected,  everybody  had  been  down  on  him,  so  now 
when  he  was  free  and  cleared  of  suspicion,  and  had 
been  an  object  of  public  attention,  he  became  some 
thing  of  a  hero.  He  worked  like  a  beaver  among 
his  own  people  for  "  Marse  French."  At  "  night 
meetings"  and  such,  he  was  powerful — and  in  the 
pulpits  of  the  colored  people,  the  fiat  went  forth 
that  it  "warn't  wuff  while  fer  cullud  folks  to  pay 
de  capilation  tax  fer  to  git  young  Mr.  Hibbs,  who 
warn'  no  quality  nohow"  into  Congress — for  the 
redoubtable  Hibbs  was  Pembroke's  opponent. 
This  too,  had  its  favorable  action  on  his  canvass. 
As  for  Petrarch,  he  claimed  a  direct  commission 
from  the  Lord  to  send  "  Marse  French  ter  Congriss. 
De  Lord,  de  Great  Physicianer,  done  spoken  it  ter 
me  in  de  middle  o'  de  night  like  he  did  ter  little 
Samson,  sayin'  '  Petrarch  whar  is  you  ?  '  He  say 
'  What  fur  I  gin  you  good  thinkin'  facticals,  'cep' 
fur  ter  do  my  will?  An'  it  ain't  Gord's  will  dat  no 
red  headed  Hibbs  be  'lected  over  ole  Marse  French 
Pembroke's  son,  dat  allus  treated  me  wid  de  great- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  141 

est  circumlocution."  Petrarch's  oratory  was  not 
without  its  effect. 

Pembroke's  natural  gift  of  oratory  had  been  re 
vealed  to  him  at  the  time  of  Bob  Henry's  acquittal. 
He  cultivated  it  earnestly,  avoiding  hyperbole  and 
exaggeration.  There  is  nothing  a  Virginian  loves 
so  well  as  a  good  talker.  Within  ten  days  of  the 
opening  of  the  campaign,  Pembroke  knew  that  he 
was  going  to  win.  Hibbs  had  a  very  bad  war  rec 
ord.  Pembroke  had  a  very  good  one.  The  canvass 
therefore  to  him,  was  pleasant,  exciting,  and  with 
but  little  risk. 

But  Olivia  Berkeley's  place  had  not  been  usurped. 
He  had  not  meant  or  desired  to  fall  in  love.  As 
he  had  said  truly  to  Cave,  there  were  other  things 
for  him  than  marriage.  But  love  had  stolen  a 
march  upon  him.  When  he  found  it  out,  he 
accepted  the  result  with  great  good  humor — and  he 
had  enough  masculine  self-love  to  have  good  hopes 
of  winning  her  until — until  Madame  Koller  had  put 
her  oar  in.  But  even  then,  his  case  did  not  seem 
hopeless,  after  the  first  burst  of  rage  and  chagrin. 

She  would  not  surrender  at  once — that  he  felt 
sure,  and  he  rather  liked  the  prospect  of  a  siege, 
thinking  to  conquer  her  proud  spirit  by  a  bold 
stroke  at  last.  But  Madame  Koller  had  changed 
all  this.  He  was  determined  to  make  Olivia  Berke 
ley  know  how  things  stood  between  Madame  Kol 
ler  and  himself — and  the  best  way  to  do  it  was  to 
tell  her  where  his  heart  was  really  bestowed. 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  April  before  a  day 

10 


142  THE   BERKELEYS 

came  that  he  could  really  call  his  own.  He  walked 
over  from  Malvern  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  found 
Olivia,  as  he  thought  he  should,  in  the  garden. 
The  walks  were  trimmed  up,  and  the  flower-beds 
planted.  Olivia,  in  a  straw  hat  and  wearing  a 
great  gardening  apron  full  of  pockets,  gravely 
removed  her  gloves,  her  apron,  and  rolled  them  up 
before  offering  to  shake  hands  with  Pembroke. 

"  Allow  me  to  congratulate  our  standard-bearer, 
and  to  apologize  for  my  rustic  occupations  while 
receiving  so  distinguished  a  visitor." 

Pembroke  looked  rather  solemn.  He  was  not  in 
a  trifling  mood  that  afternoon,  and  he  thought 
Olivia  deficient  in  perception  not  to  see  at  once 
that  he  had  come  on  a  lover's  errand. 

Is  there  anything  more  charming  than  an  old- 
fashioned  garden  in  the  spring  ?  The  lilac  bushes 
were  hanging  with  purple  blossoms,  and  great  sy- 
ringa  trees  were  brave  in  their  white  glory.  The 
guelder  roses  nodded  on  their  tall  stems,  and  a  few 
late  violets  scented  the  air.  It  was  a  very  quiet 
garden,  and  the  shrubbery  cut  it  off  like  a  hermi 
tage.  Pembroke  had  selected  his  ground  well. 

Olivia  soon  saw  that  something  was  on  his  mind, 
but  she  did  not  suspect  what  it  was.  She  had 
heard  that  Madame  Roller  was  to  leave  the  coun 
try,  and  she  thought  perhaps  Pembroke  needed 
consolation.  Men  often  go  to  one  woman  to  be 
consoled  for  the  perfidy  of  another.  Presently  as 
they  strolled  along,  she  stooped  down,  and  plucked 
some  violets. 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  143 

"  I  thought  they  were  quite  gone,"  she  said. 
"  Here  are  four,"  and  as  she  held  them  out  to  Pem 
broke,  he  took  her  little  hand,  inclosing  the  violets 
in  his  own  strong  grasp. 

There  was  the  time,  the  place,  the  opportunity, 
and  Olivia  was  more  than  half  won.  Yet,  half  an 
hour  afterward,  Pembroke  came  out  of  the  garden, 
looking  black  as  a  thunder-cloud,  and  strode  away 
down  by  the  path  through  the  fields — a  rejected 
suitor.  Olivia  remained  in  the  garden.  The  cool 
spring  night  came  on  apace.  She  could  not  have 
described  her  own  emotions  to  have  saved  her  life 
— or  what  exactly  led  up  to  that  angry  parting — for 
it  will  have  been  seen  before  this  that  Pembroke 
was  subject  to  sudden  gusts  of  temper.  She  had 
tried  to  put  before  him  what  she  felt  herself  obliged 
in  honor  to  say — that  the  Colonel's  modest  fortune 
was  very  much  exaggerated — and  she  had  blundered 
wretchedly  in  so  doing.  Pembroke  had  rashly 
assumed  that  she  meant  his  poverty  stood  in  the 
way.  Then  he  had  as  wretchedly  blundered  about 
Madame  Roller,  and  a  few  cutting  words  on  both 
sides  had  made  it  impossible  for  either  to  say  more. 
Olivia,  pale  and  red  by  turns,  looked  inexpressibly 
haughty  when  Madame  Keller's  name  was  men 
tioned.  Lovers'  quarrels  are  proverbially  of  easy 
arrangement — but  the  case  is  different  when  the 
woman  is  high  strung  and  the  man  high  tempered. 
Olivia  received  Pembroke's  confession  with  such 
cool  questionings  that  his  self-love  was  cruelly 
wounded.  Pembroke  took  his  dismissal  so  debo- 


144  THE   BERKELEYS 

nairly  that  Olivia  was  irresistibly  impelled  to  make 
it  stronger.  The  love  scene,  which  really  began  very 
prettily,  absolutely  degenerated  into  a  quarrel. 
Pembroke  openly  accused  Olivia  of  being  merce 
nary.  Olivia  retaliated  by  an  exasperating  remark, 
implying  that  perhaps  Madame  Keller's  fortune 
was  not  without  its  charm  for  him— to  which  Pem 
broke,  being  entirely  innocent,  responded  with  a  rude 
violence  that  made  Olivia  more  furiously  angry  than 
she  ever  expected  to  be  in  her  life.  Pembroke  see 
ing  this  in  her  pale  face  and  blazing  eyes,  stalked 
down  the  garden  path,  wroth  with  her  and  wroth 
with  the  whole  world. 

He,  walking  fast  back  through  the  woods,  was 
filled  with  rage  and  remorse — chiefly  with  rage. 
She  was  a  cold-blooded  creature — how  she  did  weigh 
that  money  question — but — ah,  she  had  a  spirit  of 
her  own — such  a  spirit  as  a  man  might  well  feel 
proud  to  conquer — and  the  touch  of  her  warm,  soft 
hand  ! 

Olivia  felt  that  gap,  that  chasm  in  existence,  when 
a  shadowy  array  of  vague  hopes  and  fears  suddenly 
falls  to  the  ground.  Pembroke  had  been  certainly 
too  confident  and  much  too  overbearing — but — it 
was  over.  When  this  thought  struck  her,  she  was 
walking  slowly  down  the  broad  box-bordered  walk 
to  the  gate.  The  young  April  moon  was  just 
appearing  in  the  evening  sky.  She  stopped  sud 
denly  and  stood  still.  The  force  of  her  own  words 
to  him  smote  her.  He  would  certainly  never  come 
back.  She  turned  and  flew  swiftly  back  to  the 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  145 

upper  part  of  the  garden,  and  stood  in  the  very 
spot  by  the  lilac  hedge,  and  went  over  it  all  in  her 
mind.  Yes.  It  was  then  over  for  good — and  he 
probably  would  not  marry  for  a  long,  long  time.  She 
remembered  having  heard  Cave  and  her  father  speak 
of  Pembroke's  half  joking  aversion  to  matrimony. 
It  would  be  much  better  for  him  if  he  did  not,  as 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  enter  for  a  career.  But 
strange  to  say  this  did  not  warm  her  heart,  which 
felt  as  heavy  as  a  stone. 

Presently  she  went  into  the  house,  and  was  quite 
affectionate  and  gay  with  her  father,  playing  the 
piano  and  reading  to  him. 

"  Fathers  are  the  pleasantest  relations  in  the 
world,"  she  said,  as  she  kissed  him  good-night, 
earlier  in  the  evening  than  usual.  "  No  fallings  out 
— no  misunderstandings — perfect  constancy.  Papa, 
I  wouldn't  give  you  up  for  any  man  in  the  world." 

"  Wouldn't  you,  my  dear  ?  "  remarked  that  amia 
ble  old  cynic  increduously. 


146  THE   BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ONE  of  the  drawbacks  of  Arcadia  is  that  every 
body  knows  everybody  else's  business — and  the  pos 
sibility  of  this  added  to  Pembroke's  extreme  morti 
fication.  He  thought  with  dread  of  the  Colonel's 
elaborate  pretense  of  knowing  nothing  whatever 
about  the  affair,  Mrs.  Peyton's  sly  rallying,  Mr. 
Cole's  sentimental  condolence — it  was  all  very 
exasperating.  But  solely  to  Olivia's  tact  and  good 
sense  both  escaped  this.  Not  one  soul  was  the 
wiser.  Olivia,  however  she  felt,  and  however  skill 
fully  she  might  avoid  meeting  Pembroke  alone,  was 
apparently  so  easy,  so  natural  and  self-possessed, 
that  it  put  Pembroke  on  his  mettle.  Together  they 
managed  to  hoodwink  the  whole  county  about  their 
private  affairs — even  Colonel  Berkeley,  who,  if  he 
suspected  anything,  was  afraid  to  let  on,  and  Miles, 
whose  devotion  to  Olivia  became  stronger  every  day. 

Luckily  for  Pembroke,  he  could  plunge  into  the 
heat  of  his  canvass.  After  he  had  lost  Olivia,  the 
conviction  of  her  value  came  to  him  with  overpow 
ering  force.  There  was  no  girl  like  her.  She  did 
not  protest  and  talk  about  her  emotions  and  analyze 
them  as  some  women  did — Madame  Roller,  for 
example — but  Pembroke  knew  there  was  "  more  to 
her,"  as  Cave  said,  "  than  a  dozen  Eliza  Peytons." 
Perhaps  Cave  suspected  something,  but  Pembroke 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  147 

knew  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  his  friend's  manly 
reticence.  But  to  have  lost  Olivia  Berkeley  !  Pem 
broke  sometimes  wondered  at  himself — at  the  way 
in  which  this  loss  grew  upon  him,  instead  of  dimin 
ishing  with  time,  as  the  case  usually  is  with  disap 
pointments.  Yet  all  this  time  he  was  riding  from 
place  to  place,  speaking,  corresponding,  as  eager  to 
win  his  election  as  if  he  were  the  happiest  of 
accepted  lovers — more  so,  in  fact. 

And  then,  there  was  that  Ahlberg  affair  to 
trouble  him.  Like  all  the  men  of  his  race  and  gen 
eration,  he  firmly  believed  there  were  some  cases  in 
which  blood  must  be  shed — but  a  roadside  quarrel, 
in  which  nothing  but  personal  dislike  figured,  did 
not  come  under  that  head.  Pembroke  was  fully 
alive  to  the  folly  and  wickedness  of  fighting  Ahl 
berg  under  the  circumstances — but  it  was  now  im 
possible  for  him  to  recede.  He  could  only  hope 
and  pray  that  something  would  turn  up  to  prevent 
a  meeting  so  indefinitely  fixed.  But  if  Ahlberg's 
going  away  were  the  only  thing  to  count  upon, 
that  seemed  far  enough  out  of  the  question,  for  he 
stayed  on  and  on  at  the  village  tavern,  playing 
cards  with  young  Hibbs  and  one  or  two  frequent 
ers  of  the  place,  riding  over  to  play  Madame  Kol- 
ler's  accompaniments,  fishing  for  invitations  to 
dine  at  Isleham — in  short,  doing  everything  that  a 
man  of  his  nature  and  education  could  do  to  kill 
time.  Pembroke  could  not  but  think  that  Ahlberg's 
persistence  could  only  mean  that  he  was  really  and 
truly  waiting  for  his  revenge.  So  there  were  a 


148  THE   BERKELEYS 

good  many  things  to  trouble  the  "  white  man's 
candidate,"  who  was  to  make  such  a  thorough  and 
brilliant  canvass,  and  whose  readiness,  cheerfulness 
and  indomitable  spirit  was  everywhere  remarked 
upon. 

One  night,  as  Pembroke  was  riding  home  after  a 
hard  day's  work  in  the  upper  part  of  the  county, 
and  was  just  entering  the  long  straggling  village 
street,  his  horse  began  to  limp  painfully.  Pembroke 
dismounted,  and  found  his  trusty  sorrel  had  cast  a 
shoe, — a  nail  had  entered  his  foot,  and  there  was  a 
job  for  the  blacksmith.  He  led  the  horse  to  the 
blacksmith's  shop,  which  was  still  open,  although  it 
was  past  seven  o'clock,  and  on  the  promise  of  hav 
ing  the  damage  repaired  in  half  an  hour,  walked 
over  to  the  village  tavern. 

It  was  in  September,  and  the  air  was  chilly.  The 
landlord  ushered  him  into  what  was  called  the 
"  card  room  " —  the  only  place  there  was  a  fire.  A 
cheery  blaze  leaped  up  the  wide  old-fashioned  chim 
ney,  and  by  the  light  of  kerosene  lamps,  Pembroke 
saw  a  card  party  at  a  round  table  in  the  corner.  It 
was  Ahlberg,  young  Hibbs,  his  political  opponent, 
and  two  or  three  other  idle  young  men  of  the 
county. 

According  to  the  provincial  etiquette,  Pembroke 
was  invited  to  join  the  game,  which  he  courteously 
declined  on  the  ground  that  he  was  much  fatigued 
and  was  only  waiting  for  the  blacksmith  to  put  his 
horse's  shoe  on  before  starting  for  home.  The 
game  then  proceeded. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  149 

Pembroke  felt  awkward  and  ill  at  ease.  He 
knew  he  was  in  the  way,  as  the  loud  laughter  from 
Hibbs  and  his  friends,  and  Ahlberg's  subdued 
chuckle  had  ceased  when  he  came  in.  They  played 
seriously — it  was  ecarte',  a  game  that  Ahlberg  had 
just  taught  his  postulants.  Young  Hibbs  had  a 
huge  roll  of  bills  on  the  table  before  him,  which  he 
somewhat  ostentatiously  displayed  in  the  presence 
of  his  opponent,  whose  lack  of  bills  was  notorious. 
Also,  Pembroke  felt  that  his  presence  induced 
young  Hibbs  to  bet  more  recklessly  than  ever,  as  a 
kind  of  bravado — and  Ahlberg  always  won,  when 
the  stake  was  worth  any  thing. 

The  waiting  seemed  interminable  to  Pembroke 
seated  in  front  of  the  fire.  The  conversation 
related  solely  to  the  game.  Presently  Pembroke 
started  slightly.  Ahlberg  was  giving  them  some 
general  views  on  the  subject  of  ecarte.  Pembroke 
himself  was  a  good  player,  and  he  had  never  heard 
this  scheme  of  playing  advocated. 

Over  the  mantel  was  an  old-fashioned  mirror, 
tilted  forward.  Although  his  back  was  to  the 
players,  Pembroke  could  see  every  motion 
reflected  in  the  glass.  He  saw  Hibbs  lose  three 
times  running  in  fifteen  minutes. 

Pembroke's  sight  was  keen.  He  fixed  it  on  the 
glass  and  a  curious  look  came  into  his  dark  face. 
Once  he  made  a  slight  movement  as  if  to  rise,  but 
sat  still.  A  second  time  he  half  rose  and  sat  down 
again — nobody  in  the  room  had  seen  the  motion. 
Then,  without  the  slightest  warning,  he  suddenly 


ISO  THE   BERKELEYS 

took  three  strides  over  to  the  card  table  and,  reach 
ing  over,  seized  Ahlberg  by  the  collar,  and  lifted 
him  bodily  up  from  the  table  into  a  standing  posi 
tion. 

"  Produce  that  king  of  spades,"  he  said. 

If  he  had  shot  Ahlberg  no  greater  surprise  could 
have  been  created.  Hibbs  jumped  up,  dashing  the 
cards  and  money  in  a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  nearly 
upsetting  the  table.  One  of  his  companions 
grabbed  the  lamp  to  save  it. 

Ahlberg  turned  a  deathly  color,  and  made  some 
inarticulate  effort  to  be  heard,  and  tried  to  wrest 
himself  from  Pembroke's  grasp.  But  it  was  in 
vain.  Pembroke  shook  him  slightly,  but  never  re 
laxed  his  hold. 

"  The  king  of  spades,  I  say." 

Without  a  word  Ahlberg  reached  down,  and 
from  some  unknown  depths  produced  the  card. 
He  was  no  coward,  but  he  was  overmastered  physi 
cally  and  mentally.  He  knew  in  an  instant  that 
Pembroke  had  seen  it  all,  and  there  was  no  shadow 
of  escape  for  him. 

Pembroke  let  go  of  Ahlberg's  collar,  and,  taking 
out  a  white  handkerchief,  wiped  his  hands  care 
fully.  Ahlberg  had  sunk  back,  panting,  in  a  chair. 
The  grip  of  a  hand  like  Pembroke's  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  wind-pipe  is  calculated  to  shorten 
the  breath. 

Hibbs  looked  dazed,  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
then  to  the  floor,  where  the  cards  had  fallen.  The 
one  damning  card  lay  on  the  table. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  !$! 

"  I  saw  it  twice  before  this,  in  the  glass,"  said 
Pembroke  to  Hibbs.  "  Each  time  I  tried  to  catch 
him,  but  he  did  it  so  well  I  couldn't.  But  the  last 
time  it  was  perfectly  plain, — you  see.  I  could  see 
under  the  table  in  the  glass.  You  had  better  pick 
up  your  money,  Hibbs." 

At  this,  Ahlberg  spoke  up. 

"  All  of  it  is  Monsieur  Hibbs',"  he  said  with 
elaborate  politeness,  recovering  his  breath  a  little, 
"  except  two  fifty-dollar  notes,  which  are  mine." 

Pembroke  picked  out  the  two  fifty  dollar  notes 
and  dashed  them  in  Ahlberg's  face,  who  very 
cleverly  caught  them  and  put  them  in  his  pocket. 

"  Mr.  Pembroke,"  said  Hibbs,  stammering  and 
blushing,  "  I — I— hope  you  won't  say  anything 
about  this,  sir.  It  would  ruin  me — I  don't  mean 
in  the  canvass,  for  I  tell  you  truly,  sir,  I  hope 
you'll  be  elected,  and  if  it  wasn't  for  the  party,  I'd 
give  up  the  fight  now.  But  my  mother,  sir,  don't 
approve — don't  approve  of  playing  for  money — 
and—" 

"  You  are  perfectly  safe,"  answered  Pembroke, 
"  and  quite  right  in  your  idea  of  duty  to  your 
party,  and  your  dislike  to  wound  your  mother  is 
creditable.  But  as  for  this  dog,  he  must  leave  this 
county  at  once." 

Ahlberg  said  not  a  word.  He  did  not  lack  mere 
physical  courage,  but  cheating  at  cards  was,  to  him, 
the  most  heinous  offense  of  which  he  could  be 
convicted.  He  had  been  caught — it  was  the  for 
tune  of  war — there  was  nothing  to  be  said  or  done. 


152  THE   BERKELEYS 

At  least,  it  happened  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner 
of  the  world,  where  it  could  never  be  known  to 
anybody — for  he  did  not  count  his  acquaintances 
in  the  country  as  anybody,  unless — perhaps — Mad 
ame  Roller.  At  that  he  grew  pale  for  the  first 
time.  He  really  wanted  Madame  Roller's  money. 
But,  in  fact,  he  was  somewhat  dazed  by  Pembroke's 
way  of  settling  the  trouble.  It  really  shocked  his 
ethics  to  see  one  gentleman  punish  another  as  if  he 
were  a  bargeman  or  a  coal  heaver.  These  extra 
ordinary  Anglo-Saxons !  But  one  thing  was  plain 
with  him — if  he  did  not  remain  perfectly  quiescent 
Pembroke  was  quite  capable  of  throwing  him 
bodily  out  of  the  window — and  if  he  had  lost  his 
honor,  as  he  called  it,  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
shouldn't  save  his  bones. 

Pembroke,  however,  although  he  would  have 
sworn  that  nothing  Ahlberg  could  do  in  the  way 
of  rascality  could  surprise  him,  was  as  yet  amazed, 
astounded,  and  almost  puzzled  by  the  promptness 
with  which  Ahlberg  acquiesced  in  the  status  which 
Pembroke  established.  Ahlberg  made  no  protest 
of  innocence — he  did  not  bluster,  or  grow  despe 
rate,  or  break  down  hysterically,  as  even  a  very  bad 
man  might  under  the  circumstances.  He  simply 
saw  that  if  he  said  anything,  he  might  feel  the 
weight  of  Pembroke's  arm.  Nothing  that  he  could 
have  said  or  done  was  as  convincing  of  his  thorough 
moral  obtuseness  as  the  way  in  which  he  accepted 
his  own  exposure. 

Just  then  the  landlord  opened   the  door.     "  Mr. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  153 

Pembroke,  your  horse  is  at  the  door.  It's  going  to 
be  a  mighty  bad  night  though — there's  a  cloud 
coming  up.  You'd  better  stay  and  join  them  gen 
tlemen  in  their  game." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Pembroke,  and  turn 
ing  to  Ahlberg.  "  Of  course,  after  what  has  passed, 
it  is  out  of  the  question  that  I  should  fight  you. 
Good  God  !  I'd  just  as  soon  think  of  fighting  a 
jail  bird  !  Don't  take  too  long  to  get  out  of  this 
county.  Good  night,  Mr.  Hibbs — good  night — good 
night." 

Hibbs  accompanied  him  out,  and  stood  by  him 
while  he  mounted. 

"  Mr.  Pembroke,"  he  said,  holding  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  "  I'm  very  much  obliged  for  what  you  have 
done  for  me,  and  what  you  have  promised.  I 
promise  you  I'll  never  touch  a  card  for  money 
again  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  And  don't  touch  a  card  at  all  with  such  an  in 
fernal  rascal  as  Ahlberg,"  answered  Pembroke,  alto 
gether  forgetting  sundry  agreeable  games  he  had 
enjoyed  with  Ahlberg  in  Paris,  and  even  in  that 
very  county — but  it  had  been  a  good  while  ago, 
and  Ahlberg  had  not  tried  any  tricks  on  him. 

This  relieved  Pembroke  of  a  load  of  care — the 
folly  of  that  quarrel  was  luckily  escaped.  But  he 
debated  seriously  with  himself  whether  he  ought 
not  to  tell  Madame  Roller  of  Ahlberg's  behavior, 
that  she  might  be  on  her  guard  against  him.  In  a 
day  or  two  he  heard,  what  did  not  surprise  him, 
that  Ahlberg  was  about  to  leave  the  country — but 


154  THE    BERKELEYS 

at  the  same  time  that  Madame  Koller  and  her 
mother  were  to  leave  The  Beeches  rather  suddenly. 
Mrs.  Peyton  met  him  in  the  road,  and  stopped  her 
carriage  to  tell  him  about  Eliza  Peyton's  consum 
mate  folly  in  allowing  that  Ahlberg  to  stick  to  her 
like  a  burr — they  actually  intended  crossing  in  the 
same  steamer.  That  determined  Pembroke.  He 
rode  over  to  The  Beeches,  and  sitting  face  to  face 
with  Madame  Koller  in  her  drawing-room,  told  her 
the  whole  story.  Pembroke  was  somewhat  shocked 
to  observe  how  little  she  seemed  shocked  at  Ahl- 
berg's  conduct.  It  was  certainly  very  bad,  but — 
but — she  had  known  him  for  so  long.  Pembroke 
was  amazed  and  disgusted.  As  he  was  going,  after 
a  brief  and  very  business-like  visit,  Madame  Koller 
remarked,  "  And  it  is  so  strange  about  Louis. 
The  very  day  after  it  happened,  he  was  notified  of 
his  appointment  as  First  Secretary  in  the  Russian 
diplomatic  service — or  rather  his  re-appointment, 
for  he  was  in  it  ten  years — and  he  has  come  into 
an  excellent  property — quite  a  fortune  in  fact  for  a 
first  secretary."  Pembroke  rode  back  home  slowly 
and  thoughtfully.  He  had  never  before  realized 
how  totally  wanting  Madame  Koller  was  in  integ 
rity  of  mind.  Olivia  Berkeley  now — 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  155 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IT  takes  a  long  time  for  a  country  neighborhood 
to  recover  from  a  sensation.  Three  or  four  years 
after  Madame  Koller,  or  Eliza  Peyton  had  disap 
peared  along  with  her  mother  and  Ahlberg,  people 
were  still  discussing  her  wonderful  ways.  Mr.  Cole 
was  paying  his  court  mildly  to  Olivia  Berkeley, 
but  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  had  not  forgotten 
his  blonde  enslaver.  The  Colonel  was  the  same 
Colonel — his  shirt-ruffle  rushed  out  of  his  bosom  as 
impetuously  as  of  old.  He  continued  to  hate  the 
Hibbses.  Dashaway  had  been  turned  out  to  grass, 
but  another  screw  continued  to  carry  the  Colonel's 
colors  to  defeat  on  the  county  race  track.  Olivia, 
too,  had  grown  older,  and  a  great  deal  prettier.  A 
chisel  called  the  emotions,  is  always  at  work  upon 
the  human  countenance — a  face  naturally  humane 
and  expressive  grows  more  so,  year  by  year. 

It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  she  was  very  happy 
in  that  time.  Life  in  the  country,  varied  by  short 
visits  to  watering  places  in  the  summer  and  occa 
sionally  to  cities  in  the  winter,  is  dull  at  best  for  a 
girl  grown  up  in  the  whirl  of  civilization.  There 
came  a  time — after  Pembroke,  taking  Miles  with 
him  had  gone  to  Washington,  when  life  began  to 
look  very  black  to  Olivia  Berkeley's  eyes.  She 
suffered  for  want  of  an  object  in  life.  She  loved 


156  THE   BERKELEYS 

her  father  very  much,  but  that  cheerful,  healthful 
and  robustious  old  person  hardly  supplied  the 
craving  to  love  and  tend  which  is  innate  in  every 
woman's  heart.  It  is  at  this  point  in  their  develop 
ment  that  women  of  inferior  nature  begin  to  dete 
riorate.  Not  so  with  Olivia  Berkeley.  Life  puz 
zled  and  displeased  her.  She  found  herself  full  of 
energy,  with  many  gifts  and  accomplishments,  con 
demned  in  the  flower  of  her  youth  to  the  dull  rou 
tine  of  a  provincial  life  in  the  country.  She  could 
not  understand  it — neither  could  she  sit  down  in 
hopeless  resignation  and  accept  it.  She  bestirred 
herself.  Books  there  were  in  plenty  at  Isleham — 
the  piano  was  an  inestimable  comforter.  She 
weathered  the  storm  of  ennui  in  this  manner,  and 
came  to  possess  a  certain  content — to  control  the 
outward  signs  of  inward  restlessless.  Meanwhile 
she  read  and  studied  feverishly,  foolishly  imagining 
that  knowing  a  great  number  of  facts  would  make 
her  happy.  Of  course  it  did  not — but  it  made  her 
less  unhappy. 

As  for  Pembroke,  the  fate  which  had  fallen  hard 
on  Olivia  Berkeley  had  fondly  favored  him.  He 
was  not  only  elected  to  Congress,  but  he  became 
something  of  a  man  after  he  got  there.  The 
House  of  Representatives  is  a  peculiar  body — 
peculiarly  unfavorable  to  age,  and  peculiarly  favor 
able  to  youth.  Pembroke,  still  smarting  under  his 
mortification,  concluded  to  dismiss  thoughts  of  any 
woman  from  his  mind  for  the  present,  and  devote 
himself  to  the  work  before  him.  With  that  view, 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  157 

he  scanned  closely  his  environment  when  he  went 
to  Washington.  He  saw  that  as  a  young  member 
he  was  not  expected  to  say  anything.  This  left 
him  more  leisure  to  study  his  duties.  He  aspired 
to  be  a  lawyer — always  a  lawyer.  He  found  him 
self  appointed  to  a  committee — and  his  fellow 
members  on  it  very  soon  found  that  the  quiet 
young  man  from  Virginia  was  liable  to  be  well  in 
formed  on  the  legal  questions  which  the  House  and 
the  committees  are  constantly  wrangling  over. 
Every  man  on  that  committee  became  convinced 
that  the  quiet  young  man  would  some  day  make 
his  mark.  This  was  enough  to  give  him  a  good 
footing  in  the  House.  His  colleagues  saw  that 
election  after  election,  the  young  man  was  returned, 
apparently  without  effort  on  his  part,  for  Pembroke 
was  not  a  demagogue,  and  nothing  on  earth  would 
have  induced  him  to  go  into  a  rough  and  tumble 
election  campaign.  At  last  it  got  so  that  on  the 
few  occasions  when  he  rose  in  his  place,  he  had  no 
trouble  in  catching  the  Speaker's  eye.  He  was  wise 
enough  not  to  be  betrayed  by  his  gift  of  oratory  into 
speech-making — a  thing  the  House  will  not  tolerate 
from  a  young  member.  He  had  naturally  a  beauti 
ful  and  penetrating  voice  and  much  grace  and  dig 
nity  in  speaking.  These  were  enough  without  risk 
ing  the  making  himself  ridiculous  by  a  premature 
display  as  an  orator.  He  sometimes  thrilled  when 
the  great  battles  were  being  fought  before  his  eyes 
— it  was  in  the  reconstruction  time — and  longed  for 

the  day  which  he  felt  would  come  when  he  might 
ii 


158  THE   BERKELEYS 

go  down  among  the  captains  and  the  shouting,  but 
he  had  the  genius  of  waiting.  Then  he  was  a 
pleasant  man  at  dinner — and  his  four  years'  army 
service  had  given  him  a  soldierly  frankness  and 
directness.  He  lived  with  Miles  in  a  simple  and 
quiet  way  in  Washington.  He  did  not  go  out 
much,  as  indeed  he  had  no  time.  He  became  quite 
cynical  to  himself  about  women.  The  pretty  girls 
from  New  York  were  quite  captivated  with  the 
young  man  from  Virginia.  They  wanted  to  know 
all  about  his  lovely  old  place,  especially  one  charm 
ing  bud,  Miss  de  Peyster. 

"  Come  and  see  it,"  Pembroke  would  answer 
good-naturedly.  "  Half  the  house  was  burned  up 
by  our  friends,  the  enemy — the  other  half  is  habit 
able." 

"  And  haven't  you  miles  and  miles  of  fields  and 
forests,  like  an  English  nobleman  ?  "  the  gay  creat 
ure  asked. 

"  Oh  yes.  Miles  and  miles.  The  taxes  eat  up 
the  crops,  and  the  crops  eat  up  the  land." 

"  How  nice,"  cried  the  daughter  of  the  Knicker 
bockers.  "  How  much  more  romantic  it  is  to  have 
a  broken  down  old  family  mansion  and  thousands 
of  acres  of  land,  than  to  be  a  stockbroker  or  a  real 
estate  man — and  then  to  have  gone  through  the 
whole  war — and  to  have  been  promoted  on  the 
field—" 

Pembroke  smiled  rather  dolefully.  His  ruined 
home,  his  mortgaged  acres,  Miles'  life-long  trouble, 
his  four  years  of  marching  and  starving  and  fight- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  159 

ing,  did  not  appear  like  romantic  incidents  in  life, 
but  as  cruel  blows  of  fate  to  him. 

But  Helena  de  Peyster  was  a  pleasant  girl,  and 
her  mother  was  gentle,  amiable,  and  well-bred. 
They  had  one  of  the  gayest  and  most  charming 
houses  in  Washington,  and  entertained  half  the  dip 
lomatic  corps  at  dinner  during  every  week.  They 
would  gladly  have  had  Pembroke  oftener.  He 
came  in  to  quiet  dinners  with  them,  assumed  a 
fatherly  air  with  Helena,  and  liked  them  cordially. 
They  were  good  to  Miles  too,  who  sometimes  went 
to  them  timidly  on  rainy  afternoons  when  he 
would  not  be  likely  to  find  anybody  else. 

So  went  the  world  with  Pembroke  for  some  years 
until  one  evening,  going  to  his  modest  lodgings,  he 
found  a  letter  with  Colonel  Berkeley's  big  red  seal 
on  it  awaiting  him. 

He  and  Miles  dined — then  Pembroke,  over  the 
wine,  opened  the  Colonel's  billet.  It  was  brief. 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY, — Olivia  and  I  are  coming  to 
Washington  to  spend  the  winter.  I  have  not  been 
to  the  cursed  town  since  the  winter  before  the  war, 
when  Wigfall  was  in  the  Senate,  and  Floyd  was 
Secretary  of  War.  John  B.  Floyd  was  one  of  the 
greatest  men  the  State  of  Virginia  ever  produced. 
Now,  I  want  to  go  to  a  decent  tavern — but  Olivia, 
who  is  a  girl  of  spirit,  won't  do  it.  She  insists  on 
having  a  furnished  house,  and  I've  engaged  one 
through  an  agent.  Don't  suppose  it  will  suit,  but 
Olivia  swears  it  will.  We'll  be  up  in  the  course  of 


100  THE   BERKELEYS 

a  week  or  two,  and  will  let  you  know.  Damme 
if  I  expect  to  find  a  gentleman  in  public  life — 
always  excepting  yourself,  my  dear  boy.  I  inclose 
you  our  address.  Olivia  desires  her  regards  to  you 
and  her  particular  love  to  Miles,  also  mine. 
"  Sincerely,  your  friend, 

"  TH.  BERKELEY." 

"  That's  pleasant  news,"  said  Miles. 

"  Very  pleasant,"  replied  Pembroke,  without 
smiling  in  the  least.  He  was  glad  to  see  the  Colo 
nel,  but  he  was  still  sore  about  Olivia.  Whenever 
he  had  been  at  home,  the  same  friendly  intercourse 
had  gone  on  as  before — but  there  was  always  an 
invisible  restraint  between  them.  Colonel  Berkeley 
had  noticed  it,  and  at  last  ventured  to  question 
Olivia  about  it — when  that  young  woman  had 
turned  on  her  father  and  cowed  him  by  a  look  of 
her  eye.  There  were  some  liberties  the  Colonel 
could  not  take  with  his  daughter. 

Promptly,  the  Colonel  and  Olivia  arrived. 

The  house,  which  was  after  the  conventional 
pattern  of  the  Washington  furnished  house  of 
those  days,  struck  a  chill  to  Colonel  Berkeley's 
heart. 

"  My  love,"  he  said,  disconsolately,  looking  at  the 
dull  grates  in  the  two  square  drawing-rooms,  "  I'm 
afraid  I'll  lose  all  my  domestic  virtues  around  this 
miserable  travesty  of  a  hearth." 

"  Just  wait,  papa,"  answered  Olivia,  with  one  of 
her  encouraging  smiles. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  l6l 

"  I  knew  how  it  would  be.  Wait  until  some  of 
those  big  boxes  are  unpacked  that  you  swore  so 
about." 

When  the  boxes  were  unpacked,  they  were  found 
to  contain  the  old  fashioned  brass  andirons  and  fen 
ders  that  had  shone  upon  the  cheerful  hearths  at 
Isleham  for  many  years.  Olivia  in  a  trice,  had  the 
grates  out  and  managed  to  have  a  wood  fire  spark 
ling  where  once  they  were.  Then  she  produced  a 
great  porcelain  lamp  they  had  brought  from  France 
with  them,  and  some  tall  silver  candlesticks  and  can 
delabra,  which  vastly  improved  the  mantels,  and  she 
re-arranged  the  tasteless  furniture  and  bric-a-brac 
with  such  skill  that  she  cheated  herself  as  well  as 
others  into  believing  them  pretty. 

It  was  rather  an  effort  to  Pembroke,  his  first 
visit.  He  would  not  take  Miles  with  him  lest  he 
should  seem  to  fear  to  go  alone.  It  was  now  five 
years  past.  Naturally  they  had  met  often,  but  in 
some  way,  this  meeting  impressed  him  differently. 
He  had  at  last  waked  up  to  the  fact  that  he  could 
not  forget  Olivia  Berkeley.  It  angered  him  against 
himself — and  so  it  was  in  rather  an  unamiable  mood 
that  he  left  the  House  early,  and  took  his  way 
through  a  drizzling  rain  to  the  Berkeleys*.  When 
he  rung  the  bell,  Petrarch's  familiar  black  face 
greeted  him. 

"  Hi,  howdy,  Marse  French.  It  do  my  heart 
good  ter  see  you.  Ole  Marse,  I  spec  he  everlastin' 
cuss  when  he  fin'  out  you  been  here  an'  he  ain't 
home.  Miss  Livy,  she  in  de  settin'  room." 


l62  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  And  how  are  you  all  getting  on  here?  "  asked 
Pembroke,  as  Petrarch  officiously  helped  him  off 
with  his  great-coat. 

"  Tollerbul,  tollerbul,  sir.  Old  marse,  he  mighty 
orkard  sometimes.  He  swar  an'  takes  de  Lord's 
name  in  vain,  spite  o'  de  commandment  '  Doan 
never  you  swar  at  all.'  I  try  ter  make  him  behave 
hisse'f  ter  de  policemens  an'  sech,  but  he  quile  all 
de  time  he  gwine  long  de  street." 

He  ushered  Pembroke  through  the  drawing  room, 
into  a  little  room  beyond.  On  a  sofa  drawn  up  to 
the  wood  fire,  sat  Olivia,  making  a  pretty  home-like 
picture,  in  the  half  light,  contrasted  with  the  dreary 
drawing-room  beyond,  and  the  dismal  drizzle  outside. 

They  had  not  met  for  nearly  two  years.  The 
session  of  Congress  had  lasted  almost  through  the 
year,  and  when  he  had  been  in  the  county  last, 
Olivia  was  away  in  the  mountains.  He  noticed 
instantly  that  she  was  very,  very  pretty,  but  her 
beauty  had  taken  a  graver  and  more  womanly  cast. 
Oh,  the  elaborate  ease,  to  cover  the  overpowering 
awkwardness  of  those  former  tete-a-tete  meetings  ! 
Pembroke  felt  this  acutely  when  he  first  saw  her — 
but  it  vanished  strangely  at  the  moment  that  Olivia 
held  out  her  little  hand  and  spoke  to  him.  Her 
voice,  her  manner,  were  pleasantly  natural.  It  car 
ried  him  back  to  the  old  days  when  he  was  grad 
ually  slipping  into  love  with  her.  How  grateful 
and  soothing  had  been  her  native  charm  as  an 
escape  from  Madame  Roller's  exaggerated  heroics ! 

"  Papa  will  be  sorry  to  miss  you,"  she  said  point- 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  163 

ing  him  to  the  easiest  chair,  and  putting  her  feet 
comfortably  on  a  footstool. 

"  Do  you  think  you'll  like  it?"  asked  Pembroke. 

"  That's  just  what  I  was  going  to  ask  you." 

"  You  mustn't  ask  me.  You  know  Congressmen 
are  received  in  society  only  on  sufferance.  I  exist 
on  the  borders  as  it  were,  and  am  permitted  to  dwell 
there  in  spite  of,  not  because  I  am  a  Congressman." 

Olivia  smiled  and  nodded  her  head. 

"  I  know  how  it  is,"  she  said,  "  I've  heard." 

"  Now  what  do  you  want  to  do  first  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Olivia,  propping  her  rounded  chin 
on  her  hand,  "  I  should  like  to  go  to  a  ball.  I  have 
not  been  to  a  real  ball  for  six  years — not  since  we 
left  Paris.  You  may  be  surprised  at  this  frivolity 
in  one  of  my  years — you  know  I  am  getting  out  of 
my  twenties  awfully  fast — but  it  is  still  a  fact." 

"  Your  age  is  certainly  imposing.  There  is  a 
superb  ball  to  be  given  at  the  Russian  Legation  next 
week — the  Minister  is  a  new  man — just  come.  I 
received  a  card,  and  I  can  get  one  for  you  and  your 
father  through  one  of  the  secretaries  of  legation 
who  is  my  friend." 

Pembroke  produced  a  handsome  invitation  card, 
bearing  the  name  of  the  Russian  Minister  and 
Madame  Volkonsky. 

Olivia's  eyes  sparkled.  She  loved  balls  as  the 
normal  girl  always  does. 

"  And  I  shall  go  out  to-morrow  morning  and 
buy  a  ball  gown.  Shall  I  have  white  tulle  and 
water  lilies,  or  peach-blow  satin  ?" 


164  THE  BERKELEYS 

"  White,  by  all  means,"  answered  Pembroke, 
gravely.  "  I  like  to  see  women  in  white." 

"A  white  gown,"  continued  Olivia,  reflectively, 
"  is  always  safest." 

"  I  suppose,  you  will  go  to  balls  all  the  time 
after  this  one.  It  will  be  like  the  first  taste  of 
blood  to  a  tiger." 

"  Yes,  after  a  long  period  of — what  do  you  call 
it — graminivorous  diet.  By  the  way,  some  friends 
of  yours  came  to  see  me  to-day.  The  De  Peysters." 

"  Yes,  I  like  them  very  much.  Helena  is  a  charm 
ing  little  thing." 

"  Delightful  girl,"  echoed  Olivia,  with  much  more 
emphasis  than  the  subject  required. 

Pembroke  had  only  intended  to  pay  an  ordinary 
afternoon  call,  but  it  was  so  unexpectedly  pleasant 
sitting  there  with  Olivia  that  the  fall  of  night  and 
the  Colonel's  return  both  took  him  unawares.  The 
Colonel  was  delighted  to  see  him. 

"  This  is  pleasant,"  cried  he,  standing  with  his  broad 
back  to  the  fire,  and  stroking  his  white  mustache. 
"  I  brought  my  riding  horse  up,  and  Olivia's,  too, 
and  I  sent  Petrarch  around  this  morning  to  make 
a  permanent  arrangement.  The  rogue  of  a  livery 
man  asked  me  such  a  stupendous  price  that  I  was 
forced  to  send  him  word  I  didn't  desire  board  for 
myself  and  my  daughter  included  with  the  horses. 
Ah,  times  are  changed — times  are  changed  !  Sad 
lot  of  you  in  public  life  now,  begad." 

"  Very  sad  lot,  sir." 

"  If  we  could   only  get  back  to  Old  Hickory  in 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  165 

the  White  House,  and  the  mail  twice  a  week  from 
New  York,  brought  in  the  stage  coach — " 

"  And  Old  Hickory's  penchant  for  Mrs.  Eaton, 
and  half  the  Congress  getting  tight  at  the  White 
House  New  Year's  Day.  We  ought  to  have  it 
all." 

"  Yes — yes — Zounds,  sir,  we  ought  to  have  it 
all !  " 

Then  there  was  the  ball  to  talk  about,  and  pres 
ently,  Pembroke  declining  the  Colonel's  hearty 
invitation  to  stay  and  dine  off  whatever  miserable 
fare  a  city  market  afforded,  and  try  some  port 
he  had  brought  from  Virginia,  knowing  there  was 
nothing  fit  to  drink  to  be  had  in  Washington,  he  left. 
Olivia's  invitation  to  stay  was  rather  faint — had  it 
been  heartier,  perhaps  he  might  have  remained. 
As  it  was,  he  went  home,  and  surprised  Miles  by 
coming  in  whistling  jovially. 


l66  THE   BERKELEYS 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  night  of  the  ball  arrived.  Olivfa  and  her 
father,  the  De  Peysters  and  Pembroke  had  all 
agreed  to  go  in  one  party.  The  De  Peysters  had 
been  very  kind  and  attentive  to  Olivia.  Her  gen 
tle  ways  had  captivated  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  and  the 
fun  innate  in  her  had  done  the  same  for  Helena. 
They  had  asked  Olivia  to  receive  with  them  on 
their  reception  day,  and  she  had  made  quite  a  little 
success  on  her  first  appearance  in  Washington 
society.  She  sat  behind  a  cosy  tea  table  in  an 
alcove,  and  poured  tea  with  much  grace.  She  was 
a  good  linguist,  and  put  two  or  three  young  diplo 
matists,  struggling  with  the  English  tongue,  at  ease 
by  talking  to  them  in  their  own  language.  She 
possessed  the  indefinable  charm  of  good  breeding, 
never  more  effective  than  when  contrasted  with 
the  flamboyant,  cosmopolitan  Washington  soci 
ety.  The  women  soon  found  out  that  the  men 
flocked  around  her.  She  had  half  a  dozen  invita 
tions  before  the  day  was  out.  Helena,  a  soft,  blonde, 
kittenish  young  thing,  was  in  raptures  over  her, 
admiring  her  as  only  a  very  young  girl  can  admire 
and  adore  one  a  little  older  than  herself.  Pem 
broke  was  among  the  later  callers,  and,  strange  to 
say,  Miles  was  with  him.  There  were  but  few  per 
sons  there  by  that  time,  and  these  Mrs.  De  Peyster 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  l6/ 

was  entertaining  in  the  large  drawing-room.  He 
lena  brought  Miles  into  the  little  alcove  and  plied 
him  with  soft  speeches,  tea  and  cakes.  Pembroke 
and  Olivia  sitting  by  exchanged  smiles  at  the  two 
enjoying  themselves  boy  and  girl  fashion.  Helena 
was  but  nineteen,  and  Miles  had  not  yet  passed  his 
twenty-third  birthday.  The  horror  of  his  wound 
was  added  to  by  the  youth  of  his  features. 

"  Now  take  this  little  cake,"  said  Helena,  earnestly. 
"  I  made  these  myself.  Do  you  know  that  I  can 
make  cakes  ?  " 

"  What  an  accomplished  girl !  I  shall  be  be  afraid 
of  you.  I  learned  to  make  ash  cakes  during  the 
war,"  answered  Miles  as  gravely. 

"  What  is  an  ash  cake,  pray  ?  " 

"  Why,  it's — it's — corn  bread  baked  in  the  ashes." 

"Oh,  how  funny  !  And  how  do  you  get  the  ashes 
off?" 

"  Wash  them  off." 

In  the  course  of  the  discussion  Miles  had  quite 
forgotten  a  piteous  and  ineffective  little  stratagem 
of  his  to  turn  the  uninjured  side  of  his  face  toward 
whom  he  was  addressing.  He  leaned  forward,  gaz 
ing  into  Helena's  pretty  but  somewhat  meaningless 
face,  just  as  any  other  youngster  might  have  done, 
and  Helena,  with  youthful  seriousness,  had  plunged 
into  the  sentimental  discussion  wherein  the  Ameri 
can  girl  is  prone  to  fall.  Pembroke  would  have 
gone  after  ten  minutes,  but  Miles  was  so  evidently 
enjoying  himself,  that  the  elder  brother  stayed  on. 
It  was  like  the  afternoon  at  Olivia's  house — so 


l68  THE   BERKELEYS 

home-like  and  pleasant — Olivia  and  himself  keep 
ing  up  a  desultory  conversation  while  they  sipped 
tea  and  listened  half-amused  to  the  two  youngsters 
on  the  other  side  of  the  round  table.  Olivia  glanced 
at  the  clock  over  the  mantel — it  was  half-past  six. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  just  have  time 
for  my  dinner  and  for  an  hour's  rest  before  I  dress 
for  the  ball." 

Mrs.  De  Peyster  and  Helena  urged  her  to  remain 
and  dine,  but  Olivia  declined,  and  the  servant 
announced  her  carriage.  Pembroke  put  her  white 
burnous  around  her  in  the  hall,  and  handed  her  to 
her  carriage.  They  were  all  to  meet  at  the  Russian 
Legation  at  half-past  ten. 

At  that  hour  the  broad  street  in  front  of  the  Lega 
tion  was  packed  with  carriages.  An  awning  for  the 
waiting  footmen  extended  on  each  side  of  the  broad 
porte  coch£re.  Half  a  dozen  policemen  kept  the 
carriages  in  line  and  the  coachmen  in  order — for 
this  was  the  great  ball  of  the  season,  a  royal  grand 
duke  was  to  be  present,  and  the  fame  of  Madame 
Volkonsky's  beauty  had  gone  far  and  wide.  The 
vast  house  blazed  with  lights,  and  amid  the  rolling 
of  wheels,  and  the  hubbub  of  many  voices  could  be 
heard  the  strains  of  an  orchestra  floating  out. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  carriages  con 
taining  Olivia  and  her  father,  Pembroke  and  the 
De  Peysters  drove  up,  and  the  party  vanished  up 
stairs. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are!"  cried  Helena  delight 
edly,  up  in  the  dressing  room,  as  Olivia  dropped  her 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  169 

wraps  and  appeared  in  her  dainty  white  toilette, 
Olivia  blushed  with  gratified  vanity.  Her  dress  was 
the  perfection  of  simplicity,  soft  and  diaphanous, 
and  around  her  milk  white  arms  and  throat  were 
her  mother's  pearls. 

As  the  three  ladies  came  out  into  the  brilliant 
corridor  to  meet  their  escorts,  Pembroke  received  a 
kind  of  thrill  at  Olivia's  beauty — a  beauty  which 
had  never  struck  him  very  forcibly  before.  She 
was  undoubtedly  pretty  and  graceful,  and  he  had 
often  admired  her  slight  and  willowy  figure — but 
she  had  grown  beautiful  in  her  solitary  country  life 
— beautiful  with  patience,  courage  and  womanliness. 
The  Colonel,  in  a  superb  swallow-tail  of  the  style  of 
ten  years  past,  his  coat-tails  lined  with  white  satin, 
his  snowy  ruffle  falling  over  the  bosom  of  his  waist 
coat,  his  fine  curling  white  hair  combed  carefully 
down  upon  his  velvet  collar  in  the  old  fashion,  offered 
his  arm  like  a  prince  to  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  herself  a 
stately  and  imposing  matron,  and  proud  to  be 
escorted  by  such  a  chevalier.  Pembroke  walked 
beside  Olivia  and  Helena  down  the  broad  staircase. 

Is  there  any  form  of  social  life  more  imposing 
than  a  really  splendid  ball  ?  The  tall  and  nodding 
ferns  and  palms,  the  penetrating  odor  of  flowers, 
the  clash  of  music,  the  brilliant  crowd  moving  to 
and  fro  through  the  great  drawing  rooms  and  halls, 
brought  a  deeper  flush  to  Olivia's  cheek.  She  felt 
like  a  debutante. 

They  made  their  way  slowly  toward  the  upper 
end  of  the  last  of  a  noble  suite  of  rooms.  Pern- 


I/O  THE   BERKELEYS 

broke  was  just  saying  in  low  tone  to  the  two  girls, 
"  I  have  looked  out  for  your  interests  with  the 
Grand  Duke.  My  friend  Ryleief  has  promised  to 
present  both  of  you — an  honor  I  waived  for  myself, 
as  being  quite  beneath  the  Grand  Duke's  notice, 
and—" 

"  Colonel  and  Miss  Berkeley,  Mrs.  and  Miss  de 
Peyster ;  Mr.  Pembroke —  '  was  bawled  out  by 
Pembroke's  friend,  Ryleief  who  was  making  the 
introductions  to  the  new  Minister  and  his  wife — 
and  the  party  stood  face  to  face  with  Ahlberg  and 
Madame  Koller. 

The  rencontre  was  so  staggering  and  unexpected 
that  Pembroke  quite  lost  his  self-possession.  He 
gazed  stupidly  at  the  pair  before  him — M.  and 
Madame  Volkonsky,  who  had  formed  much  of  his 
life  five  years  before  as  Ahlberg  and  Elise  Koller. 
He  saw  Ahlberg's  breast  covered  with  orders,  and  he 
wore  an  elaborate  court  suit.  Madame  Koller,  or 
Madame  Volkonsky,  blazed  with  diamonds.  Her 
hair  was  as  blonde  and  as  abundant  as  ever,  and 
far  behind  her  streamed  a  gorgeous  satin  train  of 
the  same  golden  hue  as  her  hair. 

Olivia,  too,  felt  that  sudden  shock  at  meeting 
people  who  rise,  as  it  were,  like  the  dead  from  their 
graves.  She  felt  also  that  repulsion  that  came  from 
a  knowledge  of  both  of  them.  She  could  only 
silently  bow  as  they  were  presented.  But  both 
M.  and  Madame  Volkonsky  expressed  more  than 
mere  surprise  at  the  meeting.  Ahlberg  or  Volkon 
sky  as  he  now  was,  turned  excessively  pale.  His 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  I/I 

uncertain  glance  fell  on  Pembroke,  and  turned 
again  on  his  wife.  As  for  her,  the  same  pallor 
showed  under  the  delicate  rouge  on  her  cheek,  but 
women  rally  more  quickly  under  these  things  than 
men  do.  Besides,  she  had  contemplated  the  possi 
bility  of  meeting  some  of  these  people,  and  was 
not  altogether  unprepared  for  it. 

If,  however,  the  blankness  of  amazement  had  seized 
upon  Olivia  and  Pembroke,  and  if  the  De  Peysters 
were  also  a  little  unnerved  by  the  strangeness  of 
what  was  occurring  before  them,  Colonel  Berkeley 
was  as  cool  as  a  cucumber.  He  held  out  his  hand 
warmly.  He  rolled  out  his  salutations  in  a  loud, 
rich  voice. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do  Eliza.  You'll  excuse  an 
old  man,  my  dear,  for  calling  you  by  your  first 
name,  won't  you  ?  And  my  friend  Ahlberg  that 
was.  This  is  delightful,"  he  added,  looking  around 
as  if  to  challenge  the  whole  party. 

In  the  midst  of  the  strange  sensations  which  agi 
tated  him,  Pembroke  could  scarcely  forbear  from 
laughing  at  the  Colonel's  greeting,  and  the  effect  it 
produced.  Madame  Volkonsky  flushed  violently, 
still  under  her  rouge,  while  Volkonsky's  face  was 
a  study  in  its  helpless  rage.  Poor  Ryleief,  with  a 
mob  of  fine  people  surging  up  to  be  introduced,  was 
yet  so  consumed  with  curiosity,  that  he  held  them 
all  at  bay,  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Does  Madame  understand  that  gentleman?" 
he  asked  in  French,  eagerly — 

"  Of  course  she  does,  my  dear  fellow,"  heartily 


1/2  THE  BERKELEYS 

responded  Colonel  Berkeley  in  English.  "  She 
spoke  English  long  before  she  learned  Rooshan,  if 
she  ever  learned  it.  Hay,  Eliza?" 

The  Colonel's  manner  was  so  very  dignified,  and 
although  jovial,  so  far  removed  from  familiarity, 
that  Madame  Volkonsky  did  not  know  whether 
to  be  pleased  by  the  recognition  or  annoyed.  If, 
as  it  was  likely,  it  should  come  out  that  she  was  an 
American,  here  were  people  of  the  best  standing 
who  could  vouch  at  least  for  her  origin.  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  the  Colonel,  and  said  rapidly  in 
French : 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you.  I  cannot  say 
much  here,  but  I  hope  to  see  you  presently." 
When  Pembroke  made  his  bow  and  passed,  Vol 
konsky  called  up  all  his  ineffable  assurance  and 
gave  him  a  scowl,  which  Pembroke  received  with  a 
bow  and  a  cool  smile  that  was  sarcasm  itself. 
Madame  Volkonsky  did  not  look  at  him  as  she 
bowed,  nor  did  he  look  at  her. 

In  a  moment  they  were  clear  of  the  press.  The 
De  Peysters  were  full  of  curiosity. 

"Who  were  they?  Who  are  they?"  breath 
lessly  asked  Helena. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  responded  the  Colonel, 
smoothing  down  his  shirt-frill  with  his  delicate  old 
hand,  "  Who  they  were  I  can  very  easily  tell  you. 
Who  they  are,  I  am  blessed  if  I  know." 

While  the  Colonel  was  giving  a  highly  picturesque 
account  of  Eliza  Peyton  through  all  her  transforma 
tions  until  she  came  to  be  Elise  Roller,  since  when 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  1/3 

Colonel  Berkeley  had  no  knowledge  of  her  what 
ever,  Pembroke  had  given  his  arm  to  Olivia,  and 
they  moved  off  into  a  quiet  corner,  where  the 
spreading  leaves  of  a  great  palm  made  a  little  soli 
tude  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd,  and  the  lights  and 
the  crash  of  music  and  the  beating  of  the  dancers' 
feet  in  the  distance.  Pembroke  was  alternately 
pale  and  red.  Madame  Volkonsky  was  nothing 
to  him  now,  but  he  hated  Volkonsky  with  the 
reprehensible  but  eminently  human  hatred  that  one 
man  sometimes  feels  for  another.  Volkonsky  was 
a  scoundrel  and  an.  imposter.  It  made  him  furious 
to  think  that  he  should  have  dared  to  return  to 
America,  albeit  he  should  come  as  *he  accredited 
Minister  of  a  great  power.  It  showed  a  defiance  of 
what  he,  Pembroke,  knew  and  could  relate  of  him, 
that  was  infuriating  to  his  self-love.  For  Elise,  he 
did  not  know  exactly  what  he  most  felt — whether 
pity  or  contempt.  And  the  very  last  time  that  he 
and  Olivia  Berkeley  had  discussed  Madame  Roller 
was  on  that  April  night  in  the  old  garden  at 
Isleham — a  recollection  far  from  pleasant. 

"  Papa's  remark  that  this  meeting  was  delightful, 
struck  me  as  rather  ingeniously  inappropriate,"  said 
Olivia,  seeking  the  friendly  cover  of  a  joke.  "  It  is 
frightfully  embarrassing  to  meet  people  this  way." 

"  Very,"  sententiously  answered  Pembroke.  He 
was  still  in  a  whirl. 

Then  there  was  a  pause.  Suddenly  Pembroke 
bent  over  toward  her  and  said  distinctly : 

"  Olivia,  did  you  ever  doubt  what  I  told  you  that 

12 


174  THE   BERKELEYS 

night  in  the  garden  about  Madame  Koller?  that 
she  was  then,  and  had  been  for  a  long  time,  nothing 
to  me?  Did  you  ever  have  a  renewal  of  your  un 
just  suspicions  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Olivia,  as  clearly,  after  a  short 
silence. 

In  another  instant  they  were  among  the  crowd 
of  dancers  in  the  ball  room.  Neither  knew  exactly 
how  they  happened  to  get  there.  Pembroke  did 
not  often  dance,  and  was  rather  surprised  when  he 
found  himself  whirling  around  the  ball  room  with 
Olivia,  to  the  rhythm  of  a  dreamy  waltz.  It  was  soon 
over.  It  came  back  to  Olivia  that  she  ought  not  so 
soon  to  part  company  with  the  De  Peysters,  and 
she  stopped  at  once,  thereby  cutting  short  her  own 
rapture  as  well  as  Pembroke's.  Without  a  word, 
Pembroke  led  her  back  to  where  the  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  De  Peyster  and  Helena  were.  Helena's  pretty 
face  wore  a  cloud.  She  had  not  yet  been  asked  to 
dance,  and  was  more  puzzled  than  pleased  at  the 
meeting  which  she  had  witnessed  in  all  its  strange 
ness.  Pembroke  good  naturedly  took  her  for  a 
turn  and  brought  her  back  with  her  card  half  filled 
and  the  smiles  dimpling  all  over  her  face. 

Meanwhile,  the  ball  went  on  merrily.  Ryleief 
escaped  from  his  post  as  soon  as  possible  and 
sought  Pembroke. 

"  So  you  knew  M.  Volkonsky  ?  "  he  said  eager 
ly,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Yes,"  said  Pembroke — and  his  look  and  tone 
expressed  volumes. 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  175 

Ryleief  held  him  by  the  arm,  and  whispered  : 

"  This  is  confidential.  I  suspected  from  the  first 
that  our  new  chief  was  —  eh — you  know  —  not 
exactly — " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Pembroke,  "  not  exactly  a  gen 
tleman.  An  arrant  knave  and  coward,  in  short." 

Ryleief,  a  mature  diplomatic  sprig,  looked  fixedly 
at  Pembroke,  his  hard  Muscovite  face  growing  ex 
pressive. 

"  Speaking  as  friends,  my  dear  Pembroke — and, 
you  understand  in  my  position  the  necessity  of 
prudence — M.  Volkonsky  is  not  unknown  among 
the  Russian  diplomats.  He  has  been  recalled  once 
—warned  repeatedly.  Once,  some  years  ago,  it 
was  supposed  he  had  been  dismissed  from  the 
diplomatic  corps.  But  he  reappeared  about  five 
years  ago  under  another  name — he  was  originally 
an  Ahlberg.  He  certainly  inherited  some  money, 
married  some  more,  and  took  the  name  of  Vol 
konsky — said  it  was  a  condition  of  his  fortune. 
He  has  been  char gt  d'affaires  at  Munich — later  at 
Lisbon — both  promotions  for  him.  What  his 
power  is  at  the  Foreign  Office  I  know  not — cer 
tainly  not  his  family,  because  he  has  none.  It  is 
said  he  is  a  Swiss." 

"  He  will  not  be  long  here,"  remarked  Pembroke. 
Then  Pembroke  went  away  and  wandered  about, 
feeling  uncomfortable,  as  every  man  does,  under 
the  same  roof  as  his  enemy.  He  felt  no  compunc 
tion  as  to  being  the  guest  of  Volkonsky.  The 
legation  was  Russian  property— the  ball  itself  was 


176  THE   BERKELEYS 

not  paid  for  out  of  Volkonsky's  own  pocket,  but 
by  his  government.  Pembroke  felt,  though,  that 
when  it  came  out,  as  it  must,  the  part  that  he 
would  take  in  exposing  the  Russian  Minister,  his 
presence  at  the  ball  might  not  be  understood,  and 
he  would  gladly  have  left  the  instant  he  found  out 
who  Volkonsky  really  was  but  for  the  Berkeleys 
and  the  De  Peysters. 

He  stood  off  and  watched  the  two  girls  as  they 
danced — both  with  extreme  grace.  There  was  no 
lack  of  partners  for  them.  Mrs.  De  Peyster,  with 
the  Colonel  hovering  near  her,  did  not  have  her 
charges  on  her  hands  for  much  of  the  time.  The 
truth  is,  Olivia,  although  the  shock  and  surprise  of 
meeting  two  people  who  were  connected  with  a 
painful  part  of  her  life  was  unpleasant,  yet  was  she 
still  young  and  fresh  enough  to  feel  the  intoxica 
tion  of  a  ball.  The  music  got  into  her  feet,  the 
lights  and  flowers  dazzled  her  eyes.  She  was  old 
enough  to  seize  the  present  moment  of  enjoyment, 
and  to  postpone  unpleasant  things  to  the  morrow, 
and  young  enough  to  feel  a  keen  enjoyment  in  the 
present.  She  would  never  come  to  another  ball  at 
the  Russian  Legation,  so  there  was  that  much 
more  reason  she  should  enjoy  this  one. 

As  Pembroke  passed  near  her  once  she  made  a 
little  mocking  mouth  at  him. 

"  Your  friend,  Ryleief,  promised  that  I  should  be 
introduced  to  the  Grand  Duke — and — 

"  Look  out,"  answered  Pembroke,  laughing,  "  he 
is  coming  this  way.  Now  look  your  best." 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  177 

At  that  very  instant  Ryleief  was  making  his  way 
toward  them  with  the  Grand  Duke,  a  tall,  military 
looking  fellow,  who  surveyed  the  crowd  with  very 
unpretending  good  humor.  Pembroke  saw  the 
presentation  made,  and  Olivia  drop  a  courtsy, 
which  Helena  De  Peyster,  at  her  elbow,  imitated  as 
the  scion  of  royalty  bowed  to  her.  The  Grand 
Duke  squared  off  and  began  a  conversation  with 
Olivia.  She  had  the  sort  of  training  to  pay  him 
the  delicate  flattery  which  princes  love,  but  she 
had  the  American  sense  of  humor  which  the  conti 
nental  foreigners  find  so  captivating.  Pembroke,  still 
smiling  to  himself,  imagined  the  platitudes  his 
royal  highness  was  bestowing  upon  the  young 
American  girl,  when  suddenly  the  Grand  Duke's 
mouth  opened  wide,  and  he  laughed  outright  at 
something  Olivia  had  said.  Thenceforth  her  for 
tune  was  made  with  the  Grand  Duke. 

The  next  thing  Pembroke  saw  was  Olivia  placing 
her  hand  in  the  Grand  Duke's,  and  the  pair  went 
sailing  around  the  room  in  the  peculiar  slow  and 
ungraceful  waltz  danced  by  foreigners.  Olivia  had 
no  difficulty  in  keeping  step  with  her  six-foot 
Grand  Duke,  and  really  danced  the  awkward  dance 
as  gracefully  as  it  could  be  done.  Mrs.  De  Pey- 
ster's  face  glowed  as  they  passed.  Olivia  was  chap 
eroned  by  her,  and  as  such  she  enjoyed  a  reflected 
glory.  The  great  maternal  instinct  welled  up  in  her 
— she  glanced  at  Helena — but  Helena  was  so  young 
— a  mere  chit — and  Mrs.  De  Peyster  was  not  of  an 
envious  nature.  Colonel  Berkeley  felt  a  kind  of 


i;8  THE   BERKELEYS 

pride  at  the  success  Olivia  was  making,  but  when  a 
superb  dowager  sitting  next  Mrs.  De  Peyster  asked, 
in  a  loud  whisper,  if  he  was  "  the  father  of  Miss 
Berkeley,"  the  Colonel's  wrath  rose.  He  made  a 
courtly  bow,  and  explained  that  Miss  Berkeley  was 
the  daughter  of  Colonel  Berkeley,  of  Virginia. 

Not  only  once  did  the  Grand  Duke  dance  with 
Olivia,  but  twice — and  he  asked  permission  to  call 
on  her  the  next  afternoon. 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  answered  Olivia 
gayly — "  and— pray  don't  forget  to  come." 

At  which  the  Grand  Duke  grinned  like  any  other 
man  at  a  merry  challenge  from  a  girl. 

At  last  the  ball  was  over.  Toward  two  o'clock 
Pembroke  put  the  ladies  of  his  party  in  their  car 
riages  and  started  to  walk  home.  Madame  Vol- 
konsky  had  not  been  able  to  spoil  the  ball  for 
Olivia. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  cried  to  Pembroke,  waving  her 
hand.  "  To-morrow  at  four  o'clock  he  comes— I 
shall  begin  making  my  toilette  at  twelve." 

"  Very  pretty  ball  of  Eliza  Peyton's,"  said  the 
Colonel,  settling  himself  back  in  the  carriage  and 
buttoning  up  his  great-coat.  "  Volkonsky — ha ! 
ha  !  And  that  fellow,  Ahlberg — by  Gad  !  an  infernal 
sneaking  cur — I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear,  for  swear 
ing,  but  of  all  the  damned  impostors  I  ever  saw  M. 
Volkonsky  is  the  greatest,  excepting  always  Eliza 
Peyton." 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  1/9 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

WHILE  Olivia  might  wince,  and  the  Colonel 
chuckle  over  the  Volkonsky  incident,  it  was  a  more 
serious  matter  to  Volkonsky.  He  had  certainly 
taken  into  account  the  possibility  of  meeting  some 
old  acquaintances,  but  neither  he  nor  Madame  Vol 
konsky  had  cared  to  keep  up  with  events  in  the 
remote  county  in  Virginia,  where  they  had  passed 
some  agitating  days.  Volkonsky  therefore  was 
quite  unaware  that  Pembroke  was  in  Congress.  The 
first  meeting  to  him  was  an  unpleasant  shock,  as  he 
had  learned  to  fear  Pembroke  much  in  other  days. 
But  when  he  began  to  inquire  quietly  about  him 
of  Ryleief,  who  evidently  knew  him,  Volkonsky 's 
discomfort  was  very  much  increased.  For  Ryleief, 
who  rather  exaggerated  the  influence  of  a  repre 
sentative  in  Congress,  impressed  forcibly  upon 
Volkonsky  that  Pembroke  possessed  power — and 
when  Volkonsky  began  to  take  in  that  Pembroke's 
determined  enmity  as  a  member  of  the  Foreign 
Affairs  Committee  might  amount  to  something,  he 
began  to  be  much  disturbed.  Before  the  last  guest 
had  rolled  away  from  the  door  on  the  night  of  the 
ball,  Volkonsky  and  his  wife  were  closeted  to 
gether  in  the  Minister's  little  study.  Whatever 
passing  fancy  Madame  Volkonsky  might  have 
entertained  for  Pembroke  some  years  ago,  Vol- 


180  THE   BERKELEYS 

konsky  was  quite  indifferent — and  if  Pembroke  re 
tained  any  lingering  weakness  for  her — well  enough 
— he  might  be  induced  to  let  Volkonsky  dwell  in 
peace. 

When  Madame  Volkonsky  entered  the  room, 
her  husband  placed  a  chair  for  her.  Often  they 
quarreled,  and  sometimes  they  were  reported  to 
fight,  but  he  never  omitted  those  little  attentions. 
Madame  Volkonsky 's  face  was  pale.  She  did  not 
know  how  much  lay  in  Pembroke's  power  to  harm 
them,  but  she  was  shaken  by  the  encounter.  It 
was  hard,  just  at  the  opening  of  a  new  life,  to  meet 
those  people.  It  was  so  easy  to  be  good  now. 
They  were  free  for  a  time  from  duns  and  creditors 
— for  during  her  marriage  to  Ahlberg  she  had  be 
come  acquainted  with  both.  She  had  a  fine  estab 
lishment,  a  splendid  position — and  at  the  very  out 
set  arose  the  ghost  of  a  dead  and  gone  fancy,  and 
the  woman  before  whom  she  had  in  vain  humiliated 
herself,  and  the  man  who  knew  enough  to  ruin  her 
husband.  It  was  trying  and  it  made  her  look  weary 
and  very  old.  Volkonsky  began  in  French  : 

"  So  you  met  your  old  acquaintances  to-night." 

"Yes." 

"  That  charming  M.  le  Colonel  called  you  Eliza 
Peyton." 

"  Yes,"  again  answered  Madame  Volkonsky. 

"  This  comes  of  that  crazy  expedition  to  America 
which  I  tried  to  dissuade  you  from." 

Madame  Volkonsky  again  nodded.  She  was 
not  usually  so  meek. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  l8l 

"  And  that  haughty,  overbearing  Pembroke. 
Does  he  still  cherish  that  romantic  sentiment  for 
you,  I  wonder." 

Madame  Volkonsky  blushed  faintly.  She  was 
not  as  devoid  of  delicacy  as  her  husband. 

"  If  he  does,"  continued  Volkonsky,  medita 
tively,  "  he  might  be  induced — if  you  should  appeal 
to  him — 

"  Appeal  to  him  for  what  ?  "  inquired  Madame 
Volkonsky,  rising  and  turning  paler.  The  con 
tempt  in  her  tone  angered  Volkonsky. 

"  Not  to  ruin  us.  That  man  is  now  in  the  Con 
gress.  He  has  to  do  with  foreign  affairs.  He  hates 
me,  and,  by  God,  I  hate  him.  He  knows  things 
that  may  cause  you  to  give  up  this  establish 
ment — that  may  send  us  back  across  the  water 
under  unpleasant  circumstances.  You  know  about 
the  dispute  at  cards,  and  other  things — you  have 
not  failed  to  remind  me  of  them, — and  if  Pembroke 
is  disposed  he  can  use  this  with  frightful  effect 
now." 

Madame  Volkonsky  remained  perfectly  silent. 
She  was  stunned  by  the  information  Volkonsky 
gave  her — but  Volkonsky  was  quite  oblivious  of 
her  feelings.  He  was  gnawing  his  yellow  mus 
tache. 

"You  might  see  him,"  he  said.  "You  might 
appeal  to  him — throw  yourself  on  his  mercy — " 

"  What  a  wretch  you  are,"  suddenly  burst  out 
Madame  Volkonsky  in  English.  They  had  talked 
in  French  all  this  time,  which  she  spoke  apparently 


1 82  THE   BERKELEYS 

as  well  as  English — but  like  most  people,  she  fell 
into  the  vernacular  when  under  the  influence  of 
strong  emotion.  Volkonsky  glanced  up  at  her. 

"What  is  it  now?"  he  asked,  peevishly. 

His  wife  turned  two  blazing  eyes  on  him.  The 
fact  that  she  was  not  upon  a  very  high  plane  her 
self  did  not  prevent  her  from  being  indignant  at 
his  baseness — and  wounded  pride  drove  home  the 
thrust. 

"  That  you  should  dare,  that  any  man  should 
dare — to  propose  that  a  wife  should  work  on  a 
man's  past  liking  for  her  to  serve  her  husband's 
ends.  Ahlberg,  every  day  that  I  have  lived  with 
you  has  shown  me  new  baseness  in  you." 

This  was  not  the  first  time  Volkonsky  had 
heard  this — but  it  was  none  the  less  unpleasant. 
Also,  he  rather  dreaded  Madame  Volkonsky 's 
occasional  outbursts  of  temper — and  he  had  had 
enough  for  one  night. 

"  It  is  no  time  for  us  to  quarrel — and  particularly 
do  not  call  me  Ahlberg.  My  name  is  now  legally 
Volkonsky,  and  I  would  wish  to  forget  it  ever  was 
anything  else.  We  should  better  design  how  to 
keep  this  Pembroke  at  bay.  I  am  sure,"  continued 
Volkonsky  plaintively,  "  I  have  never  sought  to 
injure  him.  Why  should  he  try  to  ruin  me  for  a 
little  scene  at  a  card  table  that  occurred  five  years 
ago?  I  wonder  if  that  ferocious  Cave  will  turn  up 
soon  ?  " 

Madame  Volkonsky  turned  and  left  him  in  dis 
gust.  In  spite  of  her  cosmopolitan  education,  and 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  183 

all  her  associations,  there  was  born  with  her  an 
admiration  for  Anglo-Saxon  pluck  which  made  her 
despise  Volkonsky  methods.  The  idea  of  schem 
ing  and  designing  to  placate  a  man  who  had  caught 
him  cheating  at  cards  filled  her  with  infinite  con 
tempt. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  few  days,  Madame 
Volkonsky  was  deeply  exercised  over  the  influence 
that  Pembroke  would  have  upon  her  future.  She 
had  talked  their  affairs  over  often  with  her  husband 
in  those  few  days.  He  had  not  failed  to  convey  to 
her  the  rather  exaggerated  impression  that  he  had 
received  from  Ryleief,  as  to  Pembroke's  power  to 
harm. 

One  afternoon,  when  Volkonsky  and  his  wife 
were  driving  in  their  victoria,  they  passed  the  Sec 
retary  of  State's  carriage  drawn  up  to  the  side 
walk.  Pembroke  was  about  to  step  into  it.  The 
Secretary  himself,  a  handsome,  elderly  man,  was 
leaning  forward  to  greet  him,  as  Pembroke  placed 
his  foot  on  the  step.  Madame  Volkonsky  looked 
at  her  husband,  who  looked  blankly  back  in  return. 
The  Secretary's  carriage  whirled  around,  and  both 
gentlemen  bowed — the  Secretary  to  both  the  Minis 
ter  and  his  wife,  Pembroke  pointedly  to  Madame 
Volkonsky. 

Volkonsky  turned  a  little  pale  as  they  drove  off. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  Secretary  will  ever  speak  to  us 
again,"  said  Madame  Volkonsky,  half  maliciously. 

Yet  it  was  as  much  to  her  as  to  him.  It  would 
indeed  be  hard  were  they  driven  in  disgrace  from 


1 84  THE   BERKELEYS 

Washington.  Volkonsky  had  been  surprisingly 
lucky  all  his  life,  but  luck  always  takes  a  turn. 
Now,  his  recall  as  Minister  would  be  of  more  con 
sequence  than  his  escapades  as  attache  or  Secre 
tary  of  Legation.  Then,  he  had  played  wild  works 
with  her  fortune,  such  as  it  was.  Madame  Vol- 
konsky's  thoughts  grew  bitter.  First  had  come 
that  struggle  of  her  girlhood — then  her  artistic 
career— ending  in  a  cruel  failure.  Afterward  the 
dreadful  years  of  life  tied  to  Roller's  bath  chair — 
followed  by  her  stormy  and  disappointed  widow 
hood.  This  was  the  first  place  she  had  ever  gained 
that  promised  security  or  happiness — and  behold  ! 
all  was  likely  to  fall  like  a  house  of  cards. 

They  paid  one  or  two  visits,  and  left  cards  at 
several  places.  Madame  Volkonsky  had  imag 
ined  that  nothing  could  dull  the  exquisite  pleasure 
of  being  a  personage,  of  being  followed,  flattered, 
admired.  She  found  out  differently.  The  fame  of 
her  beauty  and  accomplishments  had  preceded  her. 
Everywhere  she  received  the  silent  ovation  which 
is  the  right  of  a  beautiful  and  charming  woman — 
but  her  heart  was  heavy.  At  one  place  she  passed 
Olivia  and  her  father  coming  out  as  they  were 
going  in.  Olivia,  wrapped  in  furs,  looked  uncom 
monly  pretty  and  free  from  care.  As  the  two 
women  passed,  each,  while  smiling  affably,  wore 
that  hostile  air  which  ladies  are  liable  to  assume 
under  the  circumstances.  The  Colonel  was  all 
bows  and  smiles  to  Madame  Volkonsky  as  usual, 
and  refrained  from  calling  her  Eliza. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  1 8$ 

Nor  did  the  presence  of  the  Volkonskys  in 
Washington  conduce  to  Olivia's  enjoyment  although 
it  certainly  did  to  her  father's.  The  Colonel  was 
delighted.  In  the  course  of  years,  Eliza  Peyton 
had  afforded  him  great  amusement.  He  was  a 
chivalrous  man  to  women,  although  not  above 
teasing  Madame  Volkonsky,  but  he  refrained 
from  doing  what  poor  Elise  very  much  dreaded  he 
would — telling  of  her  American  origin.  She  had 
admitted  that  her  mother  was  an  American — an 
admission  necessary  to  account  for  the  native, 
idiomatic  way  in  which  she  spoke  the  English  lan 
guage,  and  Colonel  Berkeley  knowing  this,  did  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  in  years  gone  by,  he  had 
known  Madame  Volkonsky's  mother,  and  very 
cheerfully  bore  testimony  to  the  fact  that  the 
mother  had  been  of  good  family  and  gentle  breed 
ing.  So  instead  of  being  a  disadvantage  to  her,  it 
was  rather  a  help.  But  Olivia  and  herself  were  so 
distinctly  antipathetic  that  it  could  scarcely  fail  to 
produce  antagonism.  And  besides  her  whole  course 
about  Pembroke  had  shocked  Olivia.  Olivia  was 
amazed — it  was  not  the  mere  difference  of  conduct 
and  opinion — it  was  the  difference  of  temperament. 
Remembering  that  Madame  Volkonsky  had  at 
least  the  inheritance  of  refinement,  and  was  quite 
at  home  in  the  usages  of  gentle  breeding,  it 
seemed  the  more  inexcusable.  In  all  those  years 
Olivia  had  been  unable  to  define  her  feelings  to 
Pembroke.  She  could  easily  have  persuaded  her. 
self  that  she  was  quite  indifferent  to  him  except 


1 86  THE   BERKELEYS 

that  she  could  not  forget  him.  It  annoyed  her. 
It  was  like  a  small,  secret  pain,  a  trifling  malady, 
of  which  the  sufferer  is  ashamed  to  speak. 

Not  so  Pembroke.  The  love  that  survives  such 
a  blow  to  pride  and  vanity  as  a  refusal,  is  love 
indeed — and  after  the  first  tempest  of  mortification 
he  had  realized  that  his  passion  would  not  die,  but 
needed  to  be  killed — and  after  five  years  of  partial 
absence,  awkward  estrangement,  all  those  things 
which  do  most  effectually  kill  everything  which  is 
not  love,  her  presence  was  yet  sweet  and  potent. 
The  discovery  afforded  him  a  certain  grim  amuse 
ment.  He  was  gettingwell  on  in  his  thirties.  His 
hair  was  turning  prematurely  gray,  and  he  felt  that 
youth  was  behind  him — a  not  altogether  unpleas 
ant  feeling  to  an  ambitious  man.  Nevertheless, 
they  went  on  dining  together  at  the  Berkeleys' 
own  house,  at  the  De  Peysters',  at  other  places, 
meeting  constantly  at  the  same  houses — for  Pem 
broke  went  out  more  than  he  had  ever  done  in 
Washington  before,  drawn  subtly  by  the  chance  of 
meeting  Olivia — although  where  once  she  was  cool 
and  friendly,  she  was  now  a  little  warmer  in  her 
manner,  yet  not  wholly  free  from  embarrassment. 
But  neither  was  unhappy. 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  187 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  MONTH — six  weeks — two  months  passed  after 
the  Russian  Minister's  ball.  The  Grand  Duke  had 
called  informally  on  the  President,  accompanied  of 
course  by  the  Minister,  but  his  visit  to  Washington 
was  so  brief  that  all  formal  courtesies  were  post 
poned  until  he  returned  from  his  travels  in  the 
Northwest,  which  would  not  be  until  spring. 
This  was  the  time  that  Volkonsky  looked  for 
ward  to  as  deciding  his  fate.  During  the  Grand 
Duke's  first  brief  visit,  Pembroke  did  not  know  of 
Volkonsky's  diplomatic  short-comings — nor  until 
the  last  moment  did  he  know  that  Volkonsky 
was  Ahlberg.  He  was  one  of  those  intensely 
human  men,  who  like  fighting,  especially  if  there  is 
glory  to  be  won — and  he  enjoyed  a  savage  satisfac 
tion  in  thinking  that  he  would  be  the  instrument 
of  Ahlberg's  punishment — and  the  prospect  of  the 
catastrophe  occurring  during  the  Grand  Duke's  visit, 
so  there  could  be  no  misunderstanding  or  glozing 
over  of  the  matter,  filled  him  with  what  the  moral 
ists  would  call  an  unholy  joy.  He  and  Volkonsky 
had  met  often  since  the  night  of  the  ball,  but  never 
alone.  The  fact  is,  Volkonsky  had  his  wife  for  a 
body  guard.  She  was  always  with  him  in  those 
days,  sitting  by  his  side  in  her  carriage,  or  else  close 
at  his  elbow.  One  day,  however,  as  Volkonsky 


1 88  .  THE   BERKELEYS 

•was  coming  out  of  the  State  Department,  he  met 
Pembroke  face  to  face. 

Pembroke  had  chafed  with  inward  fury  at  the 
cleverness  with  which  Volkonsky  had  managed 
to  avoid  him.  Therefore  when  he  passed  the  Rus 
sian  Minister's  carriage  with  Madame  Volkonsky 
sitting  in  it  alone  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  he  was 
certain  that  Volkonsky  was  in  the  State  Depart 
ment,  and  that  he  could  catch  him — for  it  had 
assumed  the  form  of  a  flight  and  a  pursuit.  Pem 
broke  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  profoundly  to 
Madame  Volkonsky.  She  could  not  but  fancy 
there  was  a  glimmer  of  sarcasm  in  his  manner — a 
sarcasm  she  returned  by  a  bow  still  lower.  Pem 
broke  could  have  leaped  up  the  steps  in  his  anxiety 
to  reach  the  building  before  Volkonsky  left — but 
he  controlled  himself  and  mounted  leisurely.  Once 
inside  the  door,  he  started  at  a  long  stride  down  the 
corridor,  and  in  two  minutes  he  had,  figuratively 
speaking,  collared  Volkonsky. 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you,"  said  Pembroke. 

"  With  pleasure,"  responded  Volkonsky,  "  but  I 
may  ask  you  to  be  brief,  as  Madame  Volkonsky 
awaits  me  in  her  carriage." 

"  I  will  be  brief.  But  I  desire  you  to  come  to 
my  club — here  is  my  card — at  six  o'clock  this 
evening." 

Volkonsky  straightened  himself  up.  He  deter 
mined  not  to  yield  without  making  a  fight  for  it. 

"  Are  you  aware  of  your  language,  Meestar 
Pembroke?  " 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  189 

"  Perfectly,"  answered  Pembroke  coolly.  "  Come 
or  stay — do  as  you  like.  It  is  your  only  chance 
of  getting  away  from  the  United  States  quietly — • 
and  this  chance  is  given  you  not  for  yourself  but 
for  your  wife." 

Pembroke  had  kept  his  hat  on  his  head  purposely 
all  this  time.  Volkonsky  had  removed  his,  but 
seeing  Pembroke  remain  covered,  put  it  back  also. 
The  two  men  gazed  at  each  other  for  a  moment, 
and  then  each  went  his  way.  But  Pembroke  knew 
in  that  moment  that  Volkonsky  would  come. 

Once  down  in  the  carriage,  Volkonsky  directed 
the  coachman  to  drive  toward  the  country.  It  was 
a  charming  morning  in  early  spring.  Madame  Vol 
konsky  had  expected  to  enjoy  the  drive,  but 
when  she  saw  Volkonsky 's  face  she  changed  her 
anticipations. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  she  asked,  almost  before 
the  footman  had  mounted. 

Volkonsky  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered  grimly  : 

"  He  has  offered  me  a  chance  to  get  away 
quietly." 

Madame  Volkonsky  said  no  more.  Volkonsky 
began  gnawing  his  mustache — a  trick  that  Ahlberg 
had  before.  He  did  not  speak  until  they  were  out 
in  the  country  lanes.  The  fresh  spring  air  brought 
no  bloom  to  Madame  Volkonsky's  pallid  face. 

"  But  for  the  frightful  insolence  of  the  fellow," 
began  Volkonsky  after  a  while,  "  it  might  not 
be  so  bad.  He  is  willing  to  negotiate.  He  has  not 


THE   BERKELEYS 

gone  yet  to  the  Secretary  of  State  with — with — his 
accusations.  But  the  Secretary  suspects  me.  I 
saw  it  in  his  face  more  plainly  this  morning  than 
ever  before.  And  there  are  certain  things  in  con 
nection  with  my  negotiations— Great  God  !  What 
a  country!  I  communicate  with  the  Department 
of  State  on  certain  diplomatic  matters.  The  De 
partment  tells  me  that'  the  Senate  has  called  for 
information  in  the  matter,  and  all  my  communica 
tions  are  handed  over  to  a  Senate  Committee.  Then 
the  Lower  House  imagines  there  is  a  commercial 
question  involved,  and  invites  its  Foreign  Affairs 
Committee  to  take  charge  of  it.  There  is  no  diplo 
macy  in  this  miserable  country,"  he  cried,  throwing 
out  his  hands.  "  The  State  Department  is  a  pup 
pet  in  the  hands  of  Congress.  No  diplomatist  can 
understand  this  when  he  comes  here — or  after." 

"  That  is  true,"  responded  Madame  Volkonsky, 
with  a  spice  of  sarcasm  in  her  that  never  wholly 
left  her.  "  None  of  you  Foreign  Office  people 
know  anything  of  the  workings  of  the  United 
States  Government."  This  angered  Volkonsky. 
He  broke  out— 

"  There  is  more  yet  to  tell.  This  wretched  canaille 
they  ca41  the  Lower  House,  this  Foreign  Affairs 
Committee — is  subdivided  into  numerous  smaller 
committees — and  the  one  in  charge  of  our  negotia 
tion  is  virtually  Pembroke — Pembroke  himself  !  " 

Madame  Volkonsky  fell  back  in  the  carriage. 
She  did  not  wholly  understand  what  this  meant,  but 
she  knew  from  Volkonsky 's  manner,  assisted  by 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  19! 

her  own  slight  knowledge,  that  Pembroke  was  in 
some  way  the  arbiter  of  Volkonsky's  fate. 

"And  there  are  documents — letters — that  Pem 
broke  has  called  for,  and  the  State  Department  has 
produced — that  in  the  hands  of  an  enemy — " 

He  struck  his  knee  with  his  clinched  fist.  Dis 
grace  stared  him  in  the  face — and  the  Grand  Duke 
himself  here — lying  would  do  no  good — and  when 
that  device  would  no  longer  avail  him,  Volkonsky 
felt  that  his  situation  was  indeed  desperate. 

Both  remained  silent  a  long  time.  The  carriage 
rolled  along  slowly.  The  road  was  smooth  and 
bordered  with  beech  and  poplar  trees,  upon  whose 
silvery  branches  the  first  tender  shoots  were  com 
ing  out.  The  air  was  full  of  the  subtle  perfume  of 
the  coming  leaves.  But  both  the  man  and  the 
woman  were  city  bred.  They  neither  understood 
nor  cared  for  such  things.  Presently  Madame  Vol 
konsky  touched  her  husband.  Ahead  of  them 
they  saw  two  figures.  They  were  Olivia  Berkeley 
and  Miles  Pembroke,  walking  gayly  along  the  path, 
talking  merrily.  The  sight  of  their  innocent  gayety 
smote  Madame  Volkonsky  to  the  heart  with 
envy.  She  had  never  been  able  to  enjoy  simple 
pleasures.  A  country  walk,  with  a  mere  nobody,  a 
boy  younger  than  herself,  with  no  one  to  admire, 
to  notice,  could  never  have  pleased  her.  All  her 
pleasures  were -of  the  costly  kind — costly  in  money, 
in  talents,  in  rank.  She  blamed  fate  at  that  mo- 
ment  for  making  her  that  way,  and  envied  instead 
of  despising  Olivia. 


192  THE   BERKELEYS 

The  two  by  the  roadside  bowed — and  the  two  in 
the  carriage  returned  it  smilingly.  But  the  smile 
died  the  instant  their  heads  were  turned. 

Volkonsky  said  presently  to  his  wife  : 

"  We  must  not  show  the  white  feather.  You 
must  sing  to-night." 

This  brought  Madame  Volkonsky  up  with  a 
turn.  Her  conversation  with  her  husband  had 
quite  put  out  of  her  mind  something  that  had 
engrossed  her  very  much,  and  that  was  an  amateur 
concert  at  the  British  Legation  that  evening,  at 
which  she  was  to  sing,  and  for  which  she  had  been 
preparing  earnestly  for  weeks.  Singing,  to  her,  was 
the  keenest  edge  of  enjoyment.  She  had  begun  to 
feel  the  delight  of  the  applause,  of  the  footlights, 
already  in  anticipation.  It  is  true  it  was  only  an 
amateur  concert — but  it  would  be  before  an  audi 
ence  that  was  worthy  of  anybody's  efforts — for  was 
not  everybody,  even  the  President  and  his  wife,  to  be 
present  ?  And  Madame  Volkonsky  had  speedily 
found  out  that  she  would  have  no  rival.  She  had 
looked  forward  with  intense  anticipation  to  this 
triumph — the  one  pleasure  without  alloy — the  one 
chance  of  being  justly  admired  and  applauded.  But 
in  the  last  hour  all  had  been  forgotten.  Even  the 
artist's  instinct  was  quenched.  She  turned  cold  at 
the  idea  of  singing  that  night.  But  with  her  hus 
band,  she  felt  it  was  no  time  to  quail.  Then  Vol 
konsky  explained  to  her  that  he  must  meet  Pem 
broke  at  six,  and  would  afterward  dine  alone  at 
home,  while  she  would  be  on  her  way  to  the  concert. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  193 

"And  Elise,"  he  said — he  rarely  called  her  by 
her  name — "  while  there  is  yet  hope — for  he  has  not 
so  far  done  anything,  and  I  think  he  would  not 
willingly  make  you  miserable — if  you  have  an  op 
portunity,  make — make  an  appeal  to  him." 

Before,  when  the  danger  had  not  been  so  imme 
diate,  she  had  derided  him  to  his  face  for  this,  but 
now,  like  him,  she  was  ready  to  do  anything.  The 
sweets  of  her  position  had  grown  upon  her.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  had  commanded  instead 
of  asking  admiration  and  attention.  She  made 
no  promises,  but  Volkonsky  knew  that  she  was 
thoroughly  frightened. 

They  went  home,  and  Madame  Volkonsky,  di 
recting  that  she  be  excused  to  visitors  that  day,  went 
to  her  room.  Like  all  people  who  have  something 
to  conceal,  she  hated  and  dreaded  to  be  seen  when 
an  emergency  was  at  hand.  She  lay  all  day  on  the 
sofa  in  her  bedroom,  ostensibly  resting  and  pre 
paring  for  the  concert  of  that  night — but  she  did 
not  sing  a  note,  and  the  professor  of  music,  who 
came  for  a  last  rehearsal,  was  ruthlessly  turned 
away  like  everybody  else.  In  the  midst  of  her  own 
misery,  Olivia  Berkeley's  calm  and  luminous  face 
haunted  her.  Olivia's  destiny  was  not  a  particu 
larly  brilliant  one — the  daughter  of  a  Virginia  coun 
try  gentleman  of  modest  fortune,  condemned  to  a 
humdrum  life  for  the  best  part  of  the  year — already 
past  her  first  youth — and  Madame  Volkonsky, 
wife  of  the  Russian  Minister,  twice  as  beautiful  as 
Olivia,  gifted  and  admired — apparently  everything 


194  THE   BERKELEYS 

was  on  Madame  Volkonsky's  side.  And  the  two 
had  begun  life  under  much  the  same  auspices. 
Madame  Volkonsky,  who  was  a  clever  woman  in 
her  way,  was  not  silly  enough  to  suppose  that  her 
present  miseries  had  any  real  connection  with  the 
honors  and  pleasures  she  enjoyed.  But  being  a 
shrewd  observer,  she  saw  that  the  excellent  things 
of  life  are  much  more  evenly  divided  than  people 
commonly  fancy — and  she  believed  in  a  kind  of  in 
exorable  fate  that  metes  out  dyspepsia  and  ingrati 
tude  and  deceit  to  Dives,  that  the  balance  may  be 
struck  between  him  and  Lazarus. 

So  all  day  she  lay  on  the  sofa,  and  thought  about 
those  early  days  of  hers,  and  Olivia  and  Pembroke, 
and  even  her  Aunt  Sally  Peyton  and  poor  Miles  and 
Cave,  and  everybody  linked  with  that  time.  When 
she  thought  of  Pembroke,  it  came  upon  her  that  he 
might  be  induced  to  spare  her.  She  had  never 
really  understood  Pembroke,  although  she  had 
admired  him  intensely.  If  she  had,  things  would 
have  been  very  different  with  both  of  them.  She 
never  could  understand  her  own  failure  with  him. 
Of  course  she  hated  him,  but  love  and  hatred  of 
the  same  person  are  not  unfrequently  found  in 
women.  She  could  not  but  hate  him  when  she 
remembered  that  if  he  spared  them  and  let  them 
get  away  quietly,  it  would  be  because  she  was  a 
woman,  not  because  she  was  Elise  Roller.  But 
after  all  she  would  be  rather  pleased  to  get  away 
from  Washington  now,  if  she  could  do  so  without 
being  ruined.  She  wondered  at  her  own  rashness 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  195 

in  returning.  It  seemed  a  kind  of  madness.  There 
were  pleasanter  places — and  it  brought  her  early 
life  and  associations  too  much  before  her.  She  was 
not  fond  of  reminiscences. 

Occasionally  as  she  lay  upon  the  sofa,  wrapped 
in  a  silk  coverlet  and  gazing  at  the  cheerful  fire 
that  blazed  in  the  fireplace,  she  dropped  into  an 
uneasy  sleep.  This  made  her  nerves  recover  their 
tone,  and  even  somewhat  raised  her  spirits.  She 
was  anxious  and  very  much  alarmed,  but  not  in 
despair.  About  four  o'clock  her  husband  came 
into  her  room.  His  face  was  ashy  and  he  held  a 
dispatch  in  his  hand. 

"  The  Grand  Duke  arrives  within  half  an  hour. 
This  dispatch  has  been  delayed  several  hours.  I 
go  to  the  train  now  to  meet  him." 

Madame  Volkonsky  sat  upright  on  the  sofa. 

"  Will  it  make — any  difference  to  us  ?  "  she 
asked. 

Volkonsky  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  will  simply  bring  matters  to  a  crisis.  It  may 
restrain  Pembroke — if  not,  it  is  his  opportunity  to 
ruin  me.  I  shall  of  course  tell  his  royal  highness 
and  his  suite  of  the  concert,  and  they  may  choose 
to  go.  Russians  must  always  be  amused.  Perhaps 
you  will  have  the  honor  of  singing  for  his  royal 
highness  as  well  as  the  President."  His  tone  as  he 
said  this  was  not  pleasant. 

"  I  met  the  old  Colonel  Berkeley  just  now.  He 
asked  me  how  Eliza  was.  Is  it  that  he  is  a  fool  or 
that  he  wishes  to  be  impertinent?" 


196  THE  BERKELEYS 

A  ghost  of  a  smile  came  to  Madame  Volkon- 
sky's  face.  Her  husband's  total  inability  to  under- 
stand  Anglo-Saxon  character,  manners,  sarcasm  and 
humor  could  not  but  amuse  her. 

"  Colonel  Berkeley  is  not  a  fool  at  least,"  she 
replied. 

Volkonsky  went  out  and  drove  rapidly  to  the 
station.  All  the  people  attached  to  the  Russian 
Legation  were  there,  and  in  five  minutes  the  train 
rolled  in.  The  Grand  Duke  and  his  suite  alighted, 
and  the  royal  young  man,  taking  Volkonsky 's  arm, 
entered  his  carriage  and  was  driven  to  his  hotel. 

During  all  this  time,  Volkonsky  was  battling 
with  his  nervousness.  He  was  afraid  that  the 
Grand  Duke  would  invite  him  to  dine — and  in  that 
case,  he  would  miss  Pembroke,  and  perhaps  exasper 
ate  him.  However  the  Grand  Duke  did  not,  much 
to  the  Minister's  relief  and  the  attaches'  disgust. 
But  the  concert  at  the  British  Legation  was  men 
tioned,  and  the  Grand  Duke  signified  his  august 
pleasure  to  attend.  The  Minister  was  to  call  for 
him  at  half-past  eight — just  the  hour  the  concert 
began,  but  royalty  does  not  mind  little  things  like 
that.  As  the  Grand  Duke  had  not  paid  his  respects 
to  the  President,  the  attendance  at  the  concert  was 
a  little  unofficial  affair,  that  was  to  be  made  as  in 
formal  as  possible — under  the  rose  as  it  were.  At 
a  quarter  before  six  Volkonsky  got  off — and  drove 
to  the  club. 

Pembroke  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  the  servants 
had  orders  to  show  M.  Volkonsky  to  a  private 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  197 

room,  where  Mr.  Pembroke  would  join  him.  This 
delay  enraged  Volkonsky.  He  thought  it  was  a 
premeditated  slight  on  Pembroke's  part  to  keep 
him  waiting.  He  went  to  the  room,  however,  and 
sat  down  and  played  with  his  gloves  and  waited 
impatiently  and  angrily. 

It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  after  Volkonsky  had 
arrived  that  Pembroke  came  in  looking  hurried  and 
flushed.  He  did  not  mind  at  all  crushing  Vol 
konsky,  and  could  with  pleasure  have  kicked  him 
into  the  street,  but  he  was  not  disposed  to  the  small 
revenges,  like  keeping  an  enemy  waiting.  He  said 
at  once : 

"  Pray  excuse  my  delay.     I  apologize — " 

"  No  apology  is  required,"  answered  Volkonsky 
haughtily  ;  "  I  have  this  instant  myself  arrived.  I 
have  been  in  attendance  upon  his  royal  highness, 
the  Grand  Duke  Alexis,  who  has  just  reached 
town." 

"  And  I,"  responded  Pembroke  bowing,  "  have 
been  in  attendance  upon  his  excellency,  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States — which  of  course,  obliges 
me  to  postpone  any  other  appointment." 

Volkonsky  fancied  a  lurking  smile  in  the  corners 
of  Pembroke's  mouth.  These  incomprehensible 
Americans,  he  thought  bitterly,  never  tell  people 
when  they  are  joking.  But  Pembroke  was  in  no 
joking  mood.  He  sat  down  by  a  little  table  be 
tween  them,  and  looked  Volkonsky  full  in  the 
eye. 

"  I  have  been  with  the  President  and  the  Secre- 


198  THE   BERKELEYS 

tary  of  State,  and  it  is  upon  your  affairs  that  we 
met." 

Volkonsky  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair.  These 
terrible  Americans.  They  outraged  all  diplomacy. 

"  And  may  I  ask  the  result  of  that  conference  ?  " 
he  inquired. 

"  Certainly.  That  if  you  will  agree  to  go  quietly, 
you  may." 

Volkonsky  drew  himself  up.  Pembroke  remem 
bered  a  similar  gesture  and  attitude  in  a  country 
road,  some  years  before. 

"And  if  I  decline?" 

Pembroke  nodded  gravely. 

"  Then  the  President,  through  the  State  Depart 
ment  will  feel  compelled  to  notify  your  government 
of  the  correspondence  of  yours  which  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  Department,  and  was  upon  my  request 
presented  to  the  Foreign  Affairs  sub-committee. 
This  is  enough,  you  understand,  for  your  recall,  and 
perhaps  dismissal.  But  I  thought  proper  to  inform 
the  President  of  what  /  knew  personally  regarding 
you — and  I  also  informed  him  that  your  wife  was 
entitled  to  some  consideration  of  which  you  were 
totally  unworthy.  So  you  had  best  take  advantage 
of  the  President's  leniency  in  allowing  you  to  go, 
without  a  peremptory  demand  for  your  recall." 

"  You  perhaps  have  gone  too  fast,"  answered 
Volkonsky  in  a  quiet  voice — for  the  whole  con 
versation  had  been  conducted  in  a  conversational 
key.  "  You  are  no  doubt  aware  that  the  United 
States  Government  is  bound  by  some  obligations  to 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  199 

the  Government  of  the  Czar,  owing  to  the  stand 
taken  by  Russia  during  your  civil  war,  when  you, 
Mr.  Pembroke,  were  in  rebellion.  If  you  will 
remember,  when  there  seemed  a  strong  probability 
that  the  Confederate  government  would  be  recog 
nized  by  England  and  France,  the  Czar  signified, 
that  if  such  a  contingency  arose,  he  would  be  pre 
pared  to  render  the  United  States  active  help.  As 
a  guarantee,  you  will  recollect  the  appearance  of 
a  small  Russian  fleet  off  the  Pacific  Coast.  Now, 
upon  the  first  occasion  that  a  member  of  the  royal 
family  comes  to  the  United  States,  to  have  a  diplo 
matic  scandal — to  dismiss  the  Russian  Minister  the 
day  after  the  Grand  Duke's  arrival — when  arrange 
ments  are  made  for  the  presentations,  and  certain 
formal  entertainments  —  will  certainly  be  most 
awkward,  and  I  may  say,  embarrassing,  for  his 
royal  highness  as  well  as  the  Russian  Govern 
ment." 

"  Quite  true,"  answered  Pembroke.  "  This  phase 
of  the  question  was  discussed  fully  by  the  Secre 
tary  of  State,  who  was  present  at  the  interview 
with  the  President.  He  mentioned  that  the  strong 
est  proof  of  friendship  this  Government  could  give 
the  Russian  Government  would  be  for  the  Secre 
tary  to  state  privately  to  the  Grand  Duke  how 
matters  stand,  and  to  offer,  on  his  account,  to  per 
mit  your  presence  'temporarily  in  Washington." 

Volkonsky  stood  up  for  a  moment  and  sat  down 
again.  His  face  was  quite  desperate  by  this  time. 
And  the  amazing  audacity  of  this  American  ! 


200  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  How  can  it  be  arranged  ?  It  is  impossible  ;  you 
must  yield,"  he  gasped. 

"  The  President  himself  has  arranged  everything. 
That  is,"  he  added,  with  some  malice,  "  he  agreed 
to  my  proposition,  as  did  the  Secretary  of  State. 
The  Secretary,  to-morrow,  will  have  an  interview 
with  the  Grand  Duke,  and— 

"  Will  follow  the  Grand  Duke's  wishes  ?  "  eagerly 
asked  Volkonsky,  rising  again. 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Pembroke,  with  dignity. 
"  Such  is  not  the  practice  of  this  government. 
The  Secretary  will  notify  the  Grand  Duke  what  the 
President  is  prepared  to  yield  out  of  courtesy  to 
the  Russian  Government,  and  respect  for  the  Czar's 
family.  You  will  be  allowed  to  present  the  Grand 
Duke  to  the  President,  according  to  the  original 
programme.  But  you  will  be  careful  not  to  offer 
your  hand  to  the  President,  or  to  presume  to  en 
gage  him  in  conversation.  Don't  forget  this." 

"  And  the  State  dinner  to  his  royal  highness  ?  " 
asked  Volkonsky,  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  A  card  will  be  sent  you,  but  you  must  absent 
yourself.  It  was  agreed  that  you  had  abundant 
resources  by  which  you  could  avoid  coming,  which 
I  warn  you  will  not  be  allowed.  You  might  be 
called  away  from  Washington  upon  imperative 
business." 

"  Or  I  might  be  ill.  It  would  perhaps  be  the 
best  solution  of  the  difficulty  if  I  should  be  taken 
ill  now,  and  remain  so  for  the  next  two  weeks." 

Pembroke    could   not    for  his  life,  refrain  from 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  2OI 

smiling  at  this.  Volkonsky,  however,  was  far 
from  smiling.  He  regarded  these  things  as  of 
tremendous  import. 

"  And  Madame  Volkonsky — and  the  State  din 
ner?"  he  said. 

"  That,"  answered  Pembroke,  with  a  bow,  "  rests 
solely  with  Madame  Volkonsky.  This  govern 
ment  fights  men,  not  women." 

Volkonsky  had  been  restless,  getting  up  and 
walking  about,  and  then  sitting  down  at  the  table 
and  resting  his  face  on  his  hands.  Pembroke  had 
not  moved  from  his  first  position,  which  was  one 
of  easy  dignity.  Presently  Volkonsky  burst  out 
with  : 

"  But  did  the  President  himself  say  anything  of 
me?  " 

"  He  did." 

"  Then  I  insist  on  hearing  it." 

"  M.  Volkonsky,  it  would  do  you  no  good. 
The  arrangements  I  have  told  you  of  are  final,  and 
I  will  be  present  with  other  members  of  the  For 
eign  Affairs  Committee  at  your  meeting  with  the 
President." 

Volkonsky  at  once  thought  that  the  President 
had  said  something  which  was  favorable  to  him. 
He  said  violently : 

"  But  I  demand  to  know.  I  am  still  the  accred 
ited  Minister  of  all  the  Russias.  I  have  certain 
rights,  which  must  be  respected.  I  demand  to 
know  the  President's  exact  language." 

"  M.  Volkonsky,  I  expressly  disclaim  any  sym- 


202  THE   BERKELEYS 

pathy  with  the  President's  remarks.  His  language 
is  far  from  diplomatic.  He  did  not  expect  it  to  be 
repeated." 

"  I  demand  to  know,"  shouted  Volkonsky,  furi 
ously. 

"  He  said,  he  knew  you  were  an  infernal  scoun 
drel  the  instant  he  put  his  eyes  on  you." 

Volkonsky  fell  back  in  his  chair  almost  stunned. 
Pembroke,  whose  sense  of  humor  was  struggling 
with  his  anger  and  disgust,  almost  felt  sorry  for 
him.  After  a  pause,  Volkonsky  raised  himself  up 
and  looked  fixedly  at  Pembroke. 

"  Why  do  you  not  enter  the  diplomatic  service  ?  " 
he  said.  "  You  have  great  talents  in  that  direction." 

"  Because,"  answered  Pembroke,  smiling  in  a  way 
that  made  Volkonsky  feel  like  strangling  him, 
"  the  diplomatic  service  is  no  career  for  a  man — " 

"  In  America,  yes.     But  in  Europe?" 

"  Nor  in  Europe,  either.  Before  the  railroad  and 
the  telegraph,  Ministers  had  powers  and  responsi 
bilities.  Now,  they  are  merely  agents  and  messen 
gers.  However,  we  will  not  discuss  that.  Our 
affairs  are  finished.  I  only  have  to  warn  you  not 
to  abuse  the  reasonable  indulgence  of  this  govern 
ment.  You  are  to  take  yourself  off — and  if  not, 
you  will  be  driven  out." 

After  Volkonsky  left  him,  Pembroke  dined 
alone  at  the  club.  He  felt  singularly  depressed. 
As  long  as  he  had  Volkonsky  before  him,  he 
enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  beating  his  enemy  accord 
ing  to  the  savage  instincts  which  yet  dwell  in  the 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  203 

human  breast.  Vorkonsky  gone,  he  began  to  think 
with  a  certain  remorse  of  Elise.  The  thought  of 
her  misery  gave  him  pain. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  the  concert.  He  recol 
lected  that  Miles  had  engaged  for  both  of  them  to 
go  with  Colonel  Berkeley  and  Olivia.  But  for 
Miles,  he  would  have  excused  himself  from  his 
engagement — but  the  boy  could  seldom  be  induced 
to  go  anywhere,  and  he  had  seemed  eager  to  go  to 
this  place — but  not  without  Olivia.  For  she  had 
the  gentle  tact  to  make  him  feel  at  ease.  She 
screened  him  from  the  curious  and  unthinking- — -he 
did  not  feel  lost  and  abashed  with  Olivia  as  he  did 
without  her.  So  Pembroke  finished  his  dinner 
hurriedly,  and  went  back  to  his  lodgings,  where 
Miles  was  awaiting  him,  after  having  dined  alone — 
and  in  a  little  while  they  were  at  the  Colonel's 
house,  where  Olivia  came  out  on  her  father's  arm, 
and  the  big  landau,  brought  from  Isleham,  with 
Petrarch  on  the  box  as  of  old,  rolled  along  toward 
the  British  Legation  and  took  its  place  in  line. 

When  they  reached  the  brilliantly  lighted  ball 
room,  where  a  concert  stage  had  been  erected  and 
chairs  arranged  in  rows,  Pembroke  took  Miles' 
usual  place  at  Olivia's  side.  He  always  felt  with 
her,  the  charm  of  a  sweet  reasonableness  and  refine 
ment.  After  the  man  he  had  talked  with,  and  the 
thoughts  and  evil  passions  he  had  just  experienced, 
it  was  refreshment  to  sit  beside  Olivia  Berkeley,  to 
look  into  her  clear  eyes  and  to  listen  to  her  soft 
voice. 


204  THE   BERKELEYS 

The  great  ball-room  was  full  and  very  brilliant. 
Pembroke  looked  and  felt  distrait.  He  was  glad  it 
was  a  concert,  and  that  he  could  sit  still  and  be 
silent,  instead  of  moving  about  and  being  obliged 
to  talk.  He  had  altogether  forgotten  Madame 
Volkonsky's  connection  with  it  until  he  saw  her 
name  on  the  programme.  It  gave  him  an  unpleas 
ant  shock — and  presently  there  was  a  slight  com 
motion,  and  the  British  Minister  escorted  the  Pres 
ident  and  his  wife  up  the  room  to  the  arm-chairs 
placed  for  them — and  a  few  minutes  after,  the 
Grand  Duke  and  his  suite — and  in  the  suite  Pem 
broke  saw  Volkonsky. 

Olivia  did  not  look  at  Volkonsky  as  he  passed. 
He  always  excited  strong  repulsion  in  her.  Then 
the  music  began. 

It  was  a  very  ordinary  concert,  as  concerts  are 
apt  to  be  by  very  distinguished  persons.  The  pro 
gramme  was  long  and  amateurish.  But  when 
Madame  Volkonsky's  first  number  was  reached 
the  audience  waked  up.  She  was  the  only  artist  in 
the  lot. 

She  came  on  the  stage  smiling  and  bowing,  which 
raised  the  applause  that  greeted  her  to  a  storm. 
She  need  not  have  wished  a  better  foil  for  her  art 
as  well  as  her  manner  and  appearance  than  those 
who  had  preceded  her.  It  had  been  her  terror, 
amid  all  the  pleasure  of  exhibiting  her  accom 
plishments,  that  the  professional  would  be  too  obvi 
ous.  She  was  always  afraid  that  some  practised 
eye — which  indeed  sometimes  happened — would 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS. 


discover  that  her  art  was  no  amateur's  art.  But  to 
night  she  was  troubled  by  nothing  like  this.  She 
knew  all.  She  knew  that  invited  to  the  house  of 
the  President,  she  could  not  go  —  she  knew  that  she 
must  slip  away  like  a  criminal  from  her  own  coun 
try,  and  from  those  very  men  and  women  who  now 
admired  and  envied  her.  She  had  married  Ahlberg 
deliberately,  knowing  who  he  was,  and  had  schemed 
with  him  and  for  him.  She  had  done  nothing  very 
wrong,  she  had  said  to  herself,  a  dozen  times  that 
day  —  nothing  but  to  prefer  present  interest  to  ever 
lasting  principles  —  nothing  but  to  join  her  fate  with 
full  knowledge,  to  a  scoundrel—  nothing  but  to  have 
preferred  money  and  pleasure  and  crooked  ways  to 
the  straight.  Meanwhile  many  women  did  as  she 
did  and  were  not  so  cruelly  punished.  But  fate 
had  overtaken  her.  No  fear  now  lest  people 
should  know  she  was  once  a  professional  singer  — 
they  would  know  all  about  her  soon  enough.  She 
knew  that  the  storm  that  would  break  upon  her 
was  only  delayed  a  little.  She  would  therefore 
enjoy  to  the  most  this  last  time  —  this  one  feast 
at  the  king's  table.  She  sang  her  best  —  sang  as 
if  inspired,  and  in  the  subtile  harmonies,  the 
deep  mysterious  cries,  the  passionate  meaning  of 
Schumann  and  Schubert,  her  soul  found  utterance 
through  her  voice.  Had  she  been  permitted  to  sing 
thus  always  —  had  that  glorious  but  capricious  voice 
always  remained  like  that,  she  would  have  been  a 
proud  and  satisfied  artist,  instead  of  this  trembling 
and  disappointed  worldling,  about  to  be  hurled 
14 


206  THE   BERKELEYS 

from  her  place  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  loved 
and  feared  so  much. 

The  applause,  which  soon  became  as  wild  and 
earnest  as  if  it  were  a  real  stage,  warmed  her  and 
brought  the  red  blood  to  her  face.  She  bowed  right 
and  left  with  the  grace  and  precision  of  one  trained 
to  receive  applause  beautifully.  Then  in  response 
to  the  tremendous  encores,  she  sang  a  little  German 
song — so  simple,  so  low  and  clear,  that  it  sounded 
like  a  mother's  lullaby.  Even  those  arrayed  against 
her  felt  the  spell  of  her  thrilling  voice.  Olivia 
Berkeley,  who  had  always  antagonized  her  strongly, 
felt  her  cheeks  flush  and  her  heart  trembled  with  a 
kind  of  remorse. 

Pembroke  was  pierced  again,  and  more  strongly, 
by  the  self-accusing  spirit  that  this  woman  was  to 
be  stricken  by  his  hand.  He  felt  himself  right  in 
what  he  had  done — but  neither  happy,  nor  self- 
approving,  nor  guiltless. 

The  rest  of  the  concert  seemed  tamer  than  ever. 
When  it  was  over  there  was  to  be  a  supper  to  a  few 
invited  guests.  When  the  music  came  to  an  end, 
Pembroke  rose,  glad  to  get  away  from  Madame 
Volkonsky's  presence.  But  just  then  the  British 
Minister  came  up  and  asked  Colonel  Berkeley  and 
Olivia  and  the  two  Pembrokes  to  remain.  Olivia 
accepted,  but  Pembroke  was  about  to  decline.  He 
had  begun  in  a  deprecatory  way,  when  Olivia  said 
smiling,  "  You  will  be  sorry  if  you  go."  Something 
in  the  tone,  in  the  expression  of  her  eye,  conveyed 
more  than  the  simple  words,  and  fixed  the  fact  in 


AND   THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  2O/ 

an  instant  that  he  would  remain.  He  accepted,  and 
almost  before  he  knew  it,  he  found  himself  near 
Madame  Volkonsky,  and  the  host  invited  him  to 
give  her  his  arm  to  the  dining-room. 

Like  most  women  of  her  nature,  Madame  Vol 
konsky  had  a  blind  dependence  upon  what  she 
called  fate — which  means  upon  any  accidental  con 
junction  of  circumstances.  She  had  been  turning 
over  in  her  mind,  eagerly  and  feverishly,  all  day 
long  the  chances  of  five  minutes'  talk  with  Pem 
broke.  She  had  not  been  able  to  hit  upon  any 
thing  that  would  insure  it  that  night,  because  she 
had  no  warrant  that  she  should  see  him — and  even 
if  he  came  to  the  concert,  it  was  a  chance  whether 
he  would  remain  to  the  supper.  Again,  everything 
pointed  to  one  of  the  diplomatic  corps  taking  her 
into  supper — and  only  the  charming  indifference 
which  the  diplomatic  corps  manifests  at  Washing 
ton  to  diplomatic  usages,  could  pair  the  wife  of  the 
Russian  Minister  with  a  young  member  of  Con 
gress.  But  in  truth,  the  British  Minister  and  all 
his  diplomatic  colleagues  had  got  wind  of  what  was 
coming,  and  it  was  an  opportunity  of  giving  Vol. 
konsky  a  kick  which  pleased  them  all.  The  sup 
per  was  quite  informal,  and  the  Grand  Duke  did  not 
remain. 

In  the  first  flush  of  her  joy  at  having  a  word  with 
Pembroke,  Madame  Volkonsky  entirely  forgot  the 
slight  offered  her  by  barring  her  out  of  a  diplo 
matic  escort.  She  was  seated  at  a  little  round 
table  where  sat  Ryleief,  and  by  another  strange 


2O8  THE   BERKELEYS 

turn  of  fate,  Olivia  Berkeley.  Madame  Volkon- 
sky  had  drawn  off  her  long  black  gloves  and  was 
talking  to  Pembroke  with  smiling  self-possession, 
when  she  remembered  that  however  Pembroke 
might  rank  as  a  man,  she  was  entitled  to  go  out  to 
supper  with  a  person  of  diplomatic  rank.  The 
British  Minister  might  play  tricks,  as  all  of  the 
diplomats  did,  with  the  Americans,  but  among 
themselves,  etiquette  was  strictly  observed,  even  at 
small  and  jolly  supper  parties.  She  was  so  well 
pleased  with  what  destiny  had  done  for  her  in  giv 
ing  her  Pembroke  as  an  escort,  that  she  had  no 
quarrel  with  destiny  whatever.  But  with  the  Brit 
ish  Minister  and  his  wife,  she  did  have  a  quarrel. 
She  felt  her  anger  and  indignation  rising  every 
moment  against  them.  It  was  the  first  stab  of  the 
many  she  was  destined  to  receive. 

Madame  Volkonsky  had  most  of  the  conversa 
tion  to  herself.  Pembroke,  in  spite  of  every  effort, 
felt  heavy  hearted.  Olivia  Berkeley  was  painfully 
embarrassed,  and  it  required  all  her  savoir  faire  to 
keep  Ryleief  from  finding  it  out.  As  for  Ryleief, 
he  was  so  taken  up  with  watching  his  three  com 
panions  that  he  scarcely  opened  his  mouth  except 
to  put  something  in  it. 

There  was  a  great  pretense  of  jollity  at  the  little 
table — so  much  so,  that  Volkonsky  turned  from 
a  remote  corner  into  which  he  had  been  shoveled, 
with  a  faint  hope  that  Madame  Volkonsky  had 
accomplished  something.  He  was  a  hopeful  scamp. 

At  last  the  opportunity  came  that  Madame  Vol- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  209 

konsky  had  longed  for.  They  rose  and  went  back 
to  the  drawing-rooms.  She  and  Pembroke  were  in 
front,  and  by  a  gesture  she  stopped  him  in  a  recess 
under  the  broad  staircase,  that  was  half  concealed 
by  great  palms.  Perhaps  Pembroke  might  have 
had  a  weak  moment — but  as  Olivia  passed  him  on 
Ryleief's  arm,  though  she  avoided  his  glance  he  saw 
her  face — he  saw  a  kind  of  gentle  scorn  in  her  deli 
cate  nostril — a  shade  of  contempt  that  hardened 
his  heart  toward  Madame  Volkonsky  on  the  in 
stant. 

In  a  moment  or  two  everybody  but  themselves 
had  gone.  They  were  virtually  alone. 

"Pembroke*,"  said  Madame  Volkonsky.  The 
tone,  and  the  piercing  look  which  accompanied  it, 
had  all  the  virtue  of  sincerity. 

"  You  know  what  I  would  say,"  she  continued. 
"  You  have  everything  in  your  hands.  You  may 
drive  me  away  from  here — away  from  respectable 
society — away  from  all  that  makes  life  tolerable. 
What  have  I  done  to  you  that  you  should  deny  me 
mercy  ?" 

"  But  I  can  do  nothing  now,"  responded  Pem 
broke.  "It  is  too  late.  And  besides  I  have  done 
very  little.  If  I  may  say  it,  M.  Volkonsky  has 
done  it  all  himself." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Madame  Volkonsky.  "  It  is 
true  he  has  done  it  all.  But  surely,  you  might 
make  some  plea.  At  least  you  might  try.  Oh, 
you  cannot  know  what  it  is  to  feel  one's  self  sink 
ing,  sinking,  and  not  a  hand  held  out  to  save." 


2IO  THE  BERKELEYS 

Pembroke's  face  was  quite  impassive,  but  his  soul 
was  not  so  impassive.  It  cost  him  much  to  with 
stand  the  entreaties  of  a  woman — and  a  woman 
who  fancied  she  had  some  claim  upon  him,  although 
in  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  knew  that  he  had 
got  more  trouble,  pain  and  annoyance  from  Elise 
Roller  than  he  had  pleasure  by  a  great  deal — more 
bad  than  good — more  war  than  peace. 

"  Madame  Volkonsky,"  he  continued,  after  a 
pause,  "you  are  putting  your  appeal  on  the  wrong 
ground.  You  will  find  that  your  husband  has  been 
mercifully  dealt  with — and  that  mercy  was  for  your 
sake  alone.  Had  you  married  him  in  ignorance — 
but  Elise,  you  knew  him  as  well  five  years  ago  as 
now." 

Pembroke  feared  that  his  tone  did  not  convey  his 
unalterable  decision,  but  it  did,  indeed,  to  the 
unfortunate  woman  before  him. 

"  There  is  no  pity  in  the  world,"  she  began — and 
then  kept  on,  gasping  with  hysterical  excitement. 
"  No  pity  at  all.  I  thought  that  you  at  least  had  a 
heart — but  you  are  as  cold — I  never  asked  for  mercy 
in  my  life  that  I  was  not  denied.  Even  when  I 
humiliated  myself  before  Olivia  Berkeley." 

In  the  midst  of  her  own  frenzy  of  despair,  she 
saw  something  in  Pembroke's  face  that  forced  her 
to  stop  there.  She  was  trembling  violently  and 
gasping  for  breath.  Every  moment  he  thought  she 
would  break  into  cries  and  screams.  He  took  her 
firmly  by  the  arm  and  led  her  to  a  side  door,  and 
out  to  where  the  street  was  blocked  with  carriages. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  211 

Madame  Volkonsky  submitted  without  a  word.  It 
was  useless.  He  was  always  so  prompt.  He  had  no 
hat,  nor  had  Madame  Volkonsky  any  wrap  around 
her.  He  called  for  the  Russian  Minister's  carriage, 
and  in  a  moment  it  came.  He  placed  Madame 
Volkonsky  in  it,  and  she  obeyed  him  silently. 
Her  head  hung  down,  she  wept  a  little,  and  was 
the  picture  of  despair. 

"  Now,  wait  for  the  Minister,"  he  said  to  the 
coachman — and  he  sent  the  footman  for  Madame 
Volkonsky's  wrap. 

Then  he  went  back  in  the  house,  and  through 
the  drawing-rooms  until  he  saw  Volkonsky.  "You 
had  better  go  at  once  to  your  wife.  She  is  wait 
ing  in  her  carriage,"  he  said. 

Volkonsky  did  not  take  time  even  to  bid  his 
host  good-night,  but  slipped  out,  Pembroke  a  little 
behind  him.  When  they  reached  the  carriage, 
Madame  Volkonsky  was  inside  weeping  violently. 
Pembroke  had  not  got  her  out  a  moment  too 
soon. 

Volkonsky  looked  at  Pembroke  for  a  moment. 
"  Madame  has  not  her  wrap,"  he  said.  "  She  has  a 
mantle  of  sable  that  cost — ah,  here  is  the  footman 
with  it."  Pembroke  turned  away  sick  at  heart. 

Within  a  week  the  Grand  Duke's  visit  was  over, 
and  the  Russian  Legation  was  suddenly  turned 
over  to  Ryleief.  The  Minister  was  ill,  and  his  doc 
tors  ordered  him  to  the  south  of  France.  The 
day  before  Madame  Volkonsky  left  Washington, 
a  parcel  was  delivered  into  her  hands.  It  was  a 


212  THE   BERKELEYS 

rouleau  containing  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 
There  was  nothing  to  indicate  where  it  came  from. 
"  It  must  have  cost  a  good  deal  of  self-denial  for 
Pembroke  to  send  me  this,"  she  said,  after  counting 
the  money.  "  He  is  not  a  rich  man.  It  will  per 
haps  serve  me  in  some  dreadful  emergency  " — for 
she  had  learned  to  expect  dreadful  emergencies  by 
that  time. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  213 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WASHINGTON  society  did  not  see  much  of  Pem 
broke  that  winter.  He  worked  very  hard,  and  in 
the  afternoons  he  took  long,  solitary  rides.  Some 
times  in  his  rides  he  would  meet  Olivia  Berkeley, 
generally  with  her  father,  and  often  Miles  was  with 
them.  Then  he  would  join  the  cavalcade,  and  ex 
ert  himself  to  be  gay — for  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
he  was  not  in  very  good  spirits  at  that  time.  It  is 
one  thing  to  perform  an  act  of  rigid  justice  and 
another  to  take  pleasure  in  it.  Madame  Volkon- 
sky's  last  words  rang  in  his  ears. 

He  could  not  but  smile  at  Olivia.  She  pierced 
his  outward  pretense  of  gayety,  and  saw  that  at 
heart  he  was  sad.  She  fancied  she  knew  why.  By 
a  mighty  effort  she  brought  herself  to  regard  his 
infatuation  for  Madame  Volkonsky  with  pity. 

"  It  is  written  that  Olivia  shall  always  misunder 
stand  me,"  he  said  to  himself. 

The  Volkonsky  matter  did  not  end  there.  The 
treatment  of  the  Russian  representative  suddenly 
presented  a  party  phase.  The  party  in  power  saw 
that  capital  could  be  made  out  of  it.  Pembroke 
had  carried  the  whole  thing  through.  Pembroke 
was  a  Southern  man.  Russia  had  offered  her  fleet 
during  the  civil  war,  in  the  event  that  France  and 
England  should  depart  from  the  strictest  neutrality. 


214  THE  BERKELEYS 

It  was  easy  enough  to  make  the  Russian  Minister, 
who  had  departed,  a  martyr.  In  those  unhappy 
days  of  sectional  strife,  these  things  were  seized 
upon  eagerly  by  both  sides. 

Pembroke  heard  that  an  attack  was  to  be  made 
upon  him  on  the  floor  of  the  House.  This  gave 
him  great  satisfaction.  He  knew  that  his  course 
was  not  only  justifiable  but  patriotic  in  the  highest 
degree.  The  question  of  Volkonsky's  iniquities  in 
the  first  instance  had  been  thrust  upon  him  by  his 
political  adversaries  in  the  committee,  who  thought 
it  at  best  but  a  diplomatic  squabble.  The  sub-com- 
mitte  to  which  it  was  referred,  had  a  chairman  who 
was  taken  ill  early  in  the  session,  and  was  not  able 
to  attend  any  of  the  committee  meetings.  His 
other  colleague  was  incurably  lazy — so  this  sup 
posed  trifling  matter  was  wholly  in  his  hands,  and 
it  had  turned  out  a  first-class  sensation. 

The  visit  of  the  Grand  Duke,  and  the  complica 
tions  from  Russia's  extreme  friendliness  toward  the 
Government  at  a  critical  time,  had  suddenly  made 
the  question  assume  a  phase  of  international  impor 
tance.  Without  scandal,  and  without  giving  offense, 
the  State  Department,  acting  on  Pembroke's  in 
formation,  had  managed  to  rout  Volkonsky,  and 
incidentally  to  give  a  warning  to  continental  gov 
ernments  regarding  the  men  they  should  send  as  dip 
lomatic  representatives  to  the  United  States.  The 
Secretaryof  State,  a  cold,  formal,  timid,  but  dignified 
man,  was  infinitely  gratified  and  relieved  at  the  man 
ner  in  which  Pembroke  had  managed  Volkonsky. 


AND  THEIR  NEIGHBORS.  21 5 

The  President  had  laughed  with  grim  humor  at  the 
account  of  Volkonsky's  utter  rout.  Altogether  it 
was  a  chain  of  successes  for  Pembroke,  and  it  gave 
him  his  opportunity  to  show  the  debater's  stuff 
there  was  in  him.  Therefore,  when  he  was  informed 
that  on  a  certain  day  he  would  have  to  answer  for 
himself  on  the  floor  of  the  House,  he  felt  in  high 
spirits,  for  the  first  time  in  weeks. 

Miles  was  full  of  excitement.  Colonel  Berkeley, 
whose  sectionalism  was  of  the  robust  and  aggress 
ive  kind  indigenous  in  Virginia,  was  in  high 
feather.  He  charged  Pembroke  repeatedly  to  wal 
lop  those  infernal  Yankees  so  that  they  would  never 
forget  it,  and  recalled  all  the  forensic  glories  of  all 
the  Pembrokes  to  him.  Olivia  brightened  into  won 
derful  interest.  She  said  it  was  the  subject  that 
interested  her. 

The  evening  before  the  resolution  was  to  be 
called  up,  Pembroke  walked  over  to  the  Berkeleys, 
Olivia  and  her  father  sat  in  the  cosy  library.  The 
Colonel  began  immediately. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  ought  not  to  be  here  this 
minute.  Remember  you  have  got  to  speak  for  the 
State  of  Virginia  to-morrow.  You  ought  to  be 
sharpening  your  blade  and  seeing  to  the  joints  in 
your  armor." 

"  You  should,  indeed,"  struck  in  Olivia,  with 
great  animation.  "  You  can't  imagine  how  nervous 
I  feel.  You  see,  you  are  to  be  the  mouth-piece  of 
all  of  us.  If  you  don't  do  your  best,  and  show  that 
we  have  some  patriotism,  as  well  as  the  North,  I 


2l6  THE   BERKELEYS 

believe  there  will  be  a  general  collapse  among  all 
the  Southern  people  here." 

Pembroke  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  Your  anxiety,  Colonel,  and  Miss  Berkeley's 
doesn't  bespeak  great  confidence  in  me." 

Olivia  blushed  and  protested  more  earnestly. 

"  Not  so,  not  so,  sir,"  cried  the  Colonel.  "  We 
have  every  confidence  in  you,  but  my  boy,  you  had 
better  take  a  look  at  Cicero's  orations  against  Cati 
line — and  read  over  to-night  Sheridan's  speeches — 
and  Hayne  against  Webster." 

Pembroke  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and 
his  laugh  was  so  boyish  and  hearty,  that  Olivia  was 
startled  into  joining  in  it. 

"  This  is  fearful,"  said  Olivia,  bringing  her  pretty 
brows  together  sternly.  "  This  is  unpardonable 
levity.  At  a  time  like  this,  it  is  dreadful  for 
us  to  stand  so  in  awe  of  your  self-love.  Really 
now,  we  know  that  you  are  eloquence  and  clever 
ness  itself,  but  it  isn't  safe,"  she  continued,  with 
an  air  of  infinite  experience,  "to  trust  anything  to 
chance." 

"  Come  down  to  the  House  to-morrow  and  encour 
age  me,"  replied  Pembroke  good  humoredly,  "  and 
keep  up  Miles'  spirits  when  I  begin  to  flounder." 

The  evening  was  very  jolly,  like  those  old  ones 
in  Paris  and  in  Virginia.  Pembroke  at  last  rose  to 
go,  and  in  parting,  the  Colonel  clapped  him  on  the 
back,  while  Olivia  held  his  hand  and  pressed  it  so 
warmly  that  Pembroke's  dark  face  colored  with 
pleasure,  as  she  said: 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  2 1/ 

"  Now,  I  know  I  am  offending  you — but  you 
can't  imagine  how  frightened  I  am.  You  may 
come  out  all  right — but  the  suspense  will  be  dread 
ful —  She  was  laughing,  too,  but  Pembroke  saw 
under  her  badinage  a  powerful  interest  in  his  suc 
cess.  He  went  away  elated.  "  At  least  she  will 
see  that  I  was  worthy  of  more  consideration  than 
she  gave  me,"  he  thought — a  common  reflection  to 
men  who  have  been  refused. 

Next  day  the  floor  of  the  House  was  crowded 
and  the  galleries  packed.  Administration  and  anti- 
administration  people  were  interested.  Society 
turned  out  in  force  to  hear  the  revelations  about 
the  late  Russian  Minister — the  private  and  diplo 
matic  galleries  were  filled.  The  Senate  was  not  in 
session,  and  many  Senators  were  on  the  floor. 

After  the  morning  hour,  and  the  droning  through 
of  some  unimportant  business,  the  leader  of  the 
majority  rose,  and  demanded  the  consideration  of 
the  resolution  of  inquiry  relating  to  the  recall  of 
the  Russian  Minister  from  this  country.  At  that  a 
hush  fell  upon  the  crowd.  The  leader  of  the  oppo 
sition  rose  to  reply.  He  stated  briefly  that  it  was 
a  matter  concerning  the  Foreign  Affairs  Committee, 
and  a  member  of  one  of  the  sub-committees  had 
sole  charge  of  it  owing  to  the  illness  of  the  chair 
man.  Another  member  then  rose,  and  sarcastically 
referring  to  the  fact  that  the  gentleman  referred  to 
could  scarcely  be  supposed  to  entertain  friendly 
feelings  toward  the  representative  of  the  only  for 
eign  government  which  showed  the  slightest  sym- 


2l8  THE   BERKELEYS 

pathy  toward  the  Union  in  the  Civil  War,  demanded 
to  know  by  what  right  had  the  Russian  Minister's 
position  in  Washington  been  made  untenable — and 
that  too,  at  the  time  of  the  visit  of  a  member  of 
the  Czar's  family — and  was  this  the  return  the 
United  States  Government  made  for  the  Czar's 
extreme  friendliness?  Then  Pembroke  stood  up 
in  his  place,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
Speaker.  This  gave  him  a  great  advantage,  for  it 
showed  the  fine  resonant  quality  of  his  voice,  clear 
and  quite  free  from  rant  and  harshness.  Olivia 
Berkeley,  who  watched  him  from  the  front  row  in 
the  gallery,  saw  that  he  was  pale,  but  perfectly  self- 
possessed.  As  he  caught  her  eye,  in  rising,  he 
smiled  at  her. 

"  Mr.  Speaker." 

The  Speaker  fixed  his  piercing  eyes  upon  him, 
and  with  a  light  tap  of  the  gavel,  said  "  The  gentle 
man  from  Virginia  has  the  floor." 

Pembroke  used  no  notes.  He  began  in  a  clear  and 
dignified  manner  to  recite  the  part  taken  by  him  in 
Volkonsky's  case— his  suspicions,  his  demand  for 
documents  from  the  State  Department,  Volkon 
sky's  compromising  letters,  of  which  he  read  copies 
— the  dilemma  of  the  Department,  anxious  not  to 
offend  Russia  but  indignant  at  the  baseness  of  Vol- 
konsky — the  further  complication  of  the  Grand 
Duke's  visit,  and  all  which  followed.  He  then  read 
his  statement  of  what  had  occurred  at  his  inter 
views  with  Volkonsky,  and  which  he  had  filed  at 
the  State  Department. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  2 19 

"  And  here  let  me  say,"  he  remarked,  pausing 
from  the  reading  of  his  minutes  of  his  last  conver 
sation  with  Volkonsky,  "  that  in  some  of  my 
language  and  stipulations  I  had  no  authority  from 
either  the  President  or  Secretary  of  State — but 
with  the  impetuosity  of  all  honest  men,  I  felt  a 
profound  indignation  at  a  man  of  the  late  Minis 
ter's  character,  daring  to  present  himself  as  an 
accredited  agent  to  this  Government.  In  many  of 
these  instances,  as  for  example,  when  I  stipulated 
that  the  late  Minister  should  not  presume  to  shake 
hands  with  the  President  at  his  parting  interview, 
or  address  him  in  any  way,  no  doubt  the  late 
Minister  supposed  that  I  was  instructed  to  make 
that  stipulation.  Sir,  I  was  not.  It  was  an  out 
burst  of  feeling.  I  felt  so  clearly  that  no  man  of 
Volkonsky's  character  should  be  permitted  to 
touch  the  hand  of  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  that  I  said  so — and  said  so  in  such  a  way 
that  the  late  Minister  supposed  I  had  the  Presi 
dent's  authority  for  it." 

At  this,  there  was  an  outburst  of  applause.  The 
Speaker  made  no  move  to  check  it.  Pembroke 
bowed  slightly,  and  resumed  in  his  calm  and  pierc 
ing  voice. 

Members  of  the  House  and  Senate  had  settled 
themselves  to  hear  a  speech.  In  five  minutes  the 
old  stagers  had  found  out  that  there  was  the  mak 
ing  of  a  great  parliamentary  speaker  in  this  stal 
wart  dark  young  man.  Members  leaned  back  and 
touched  each  other.  Pens  refrained  from  scratching. 


220  THE   BERKELEYS 

The  pages,  finding  nothing  to  do,  crept  toward  the 
Speaker's  desk  and  sat  down  on  the  carpeted  steps. 
One  little  black-eyed  fellow  fixed  his  gaze  on 
Pembroke's  face,  and  at  the  next  point  he  made, 
the  page,  without  waiting  for  his  elders,  suddenly 
clapped  furiously.  A  roar  of  laughter  and  applause 
followed.  Pembroke  smiled,  and  did  not  break 
silence  again  until  the  Speaker  gave  him  a  slight 
inclination  of  the  head.  In  that  pause  he  had 
glanced  at  Olivia  in  the  gallery.  Her  face  was 
crimson  with  pride  and  pleasure. 

Outside  in  the  corridors,  the  word  had  gone 
round  that  there  was  something  worth  listening  to 
going  on  inside.  The  aisles  became  packed.  A 
slight  disturbance  behind  him  showed  Pembroke 
that  a  contingent  of  women  was  being  admitted  to 
the  floor — and  before  him,  in  the  reporters'  gallery, 
where  men  were  usually  moving  to  and  fro,  every 
man  was  at  his  post,  and  there  was  no  passing  in 
and  out. 

Pembroke  began  to  feel  a  sense  of  triumph.  His 
easy,  but  forcible  delivery  was  not  far  from  elo 
quence.  He  felt  the  pulse  of  his  audience,  as  it 
were.  At  first,  when  he  began,  it  was  entirely  cold 
and  critical,  while  his  blood  leaped  like  fire  through 
his  veins,  and  it  took  all  his  will-power  to  maintain 
his  appearance  of  coolness.  But  as  his  listeners 
warmed  up,  he  cooled  off.  The  more  subtly  he 
wrought  them  up,  the  more  was  he  master  of  him 
self.  His  nerve  did  not  once  desert  him. 

Gradually  he  began  to  lead  up  to  where  he  hoped 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  221 

to  make  his  point — that,  although  of  the  party  in 
opposition,  he  felt  as  deeply,  and  resented  as  in 
stantly,  any  infringement  of  the  dignity  of  the  Gov 
ernment  as  any  citizen  of  the  republic — and  that 
such  was  the  feeling  in  his  party.  His  own  people 
saw  his  lead  and  applauded  tremendously.  Just 
then  the  Speaker's  gavel  fell.  Loud  cries  of  "  Go 
on  !  Go  on  !  Give  him  half  an  hour  more !  Give 
him  an  hour  !  "  rang  out.  Pembroke  had  ceased  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence,  and  had  sat  down. 

"  Is  there  objection  to  the  gentleman  from 
Virginia  continuing?"  asked  the  Speaker,  in  an 
animated  voice.  "  The  Chair  hears  none.  The 
gentleman  will  proceed." 

The  applause  now  turned  into  cheers  and  shouts. 
One  very  deaf  old  gentleman  moved  forward  to 
Pembroke  and,  deliberately  motioning  a  younger 
man  out  of  his  seat,  quietly  took  possession  of  it,  to 
the  amusement  of  the  House.  The  little  page, 
who  was  evidently  a  pet  of  the  old  gentleman, 
stole  up  to  him  and  managed  to  crowd  in  the  same 
chair.  Shouts  of  laughter  followed  this,  followed 
by  renewed  applause  for  Pembroke,  in  which  his 
opponents  good-naturedly  joined.  Then  Pembroke 
felt  that  the  time  had  come.  He  had  the  House 
with  him. 

He  spoke  for  an  hour.  He  merely  took  the 
Volkonsky  incident  for  a  text.  He  spoke  of  the 
regard  for  the  common  weal  exhibited  by  his  party, 
and  he  vigorously  denounced  his  opponents  for 
their  attempt  to  make  party  capital  out  of  that 


222  THE   BERKELEYS 

which  was  near  and  dear  to  all  Americans.  He 
spoke  with  temper  and  judgment,  but  his  party 
realized  that  they  had  gained  a  powerful  aid  in 
their  fight  with  the  majority.  At  the  last  he  art 
fully  indulged  in  one  burst  of  eloquence — in  which 
he  seemed  carried  away  by  his  theme,  but  in  which, 
like  a  genuine  orator,  he  played  upon  his  audience, 
and  while  they  imagined  that  he  had  forgotten 
himself  he  was  watching  them.  Truly  they  had 
forgotten  everything  but  the  ringing  words  of  the 
speaker.  He  had  touched  the  chord  of  true 
Americanism  which  sweeps  away  all  parties,  all 
prejudices.  Then,  amidst  prolonged  and  vocifer 
ous  cheering,  he  sat  down.  Senators  and  Represent 
atives  closed  around  him,  congratulating  him  and 
shaking  hands.  The  House  was  in  no  mood  for 
anything  after  that,  and  a  motion  to  adjourn  was 
carried,  nobody  knew  how.  When  at  last,  to  es 
cape  being  made  to  appear  as  if  he  remained  to  be 
congratulated,  Pembroke  was  going  toward  the 
cloak  room  the  Speaker  passed  near  him  and  ad 
vanced  and  offered  his  hand.  "  Ah,"  he  cried,  in  his 
pleasant,  jovial  way,  "  right  well  have  you  acquitted 
yourself  this  day.  You'll  find  much  better  com 
pany  on  our  side  of  the  House,  however,  my  young 
friend." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Pembroke,  smiling  and  bow 
ing  to  the  great  man.  "  It's  not  bad  on  my  own 
side." 

The  Speaker  laughed  and  passed  on. 

Pembroke  slipped  out.     It  was  a  pleasant  spring 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  223 

afternoon.  The  world  took  on  for  him  a  glorious 
hue  just  then,  as  it  does  to  every  man  who  finds 
his  place  in  life,  and  that  place  an  honorable  one. 
But  one  thing  was  wanting — a  tender  heart  to 
sympathize  with  him  at  that  moment.  Instead  of 
turning  toward  his  lodgings,  he  walked  away  into 
the  country — away  where  he  could  see  the  blue 
line  of  the  Virginia  hills.  It  gave  him  a  kind  of 
malicious  satisfaction,  and  was  yet  pain  to  htm, 
that  Olivia  would  be  expecting  him,  and  that  she 
should  be  disappointed.  As  the  hero  of  the  hour 
she  would  naturally  want  to  greet  him. 

"  Well,"  he  thought,  as  he  struck  out  more  vig 
orously  still,  "  let  us  see  if  my  lady  will  not  peak 
and  pine  a  little  at  being  forgotten."  And  yet  her 
hurt  gave  him  hurt,  too.  Love  and  perversity  are 
natural  allies. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  returned  to  his  lodg 
ings.  Miles  was  not  there— gone  to  dinner  with 
the  Berkeleys. 

About  ten  o'clock  Miles  turned  up,  the  proudest 
younger  brother  in  all  America.  He  had  all  that 
he  had  heard  to  tell  his  brother.  But  presently  he 
asked  : 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  the  Berkeleys'?  The 
Colonel  kept  the  carriage  waiting  at  the  Capitol 
for  you.  Olivia  listened  at  dinner  for  your  step, 
and  jumped  up  once,  thinking  you  had  come." 

"  I  needed  a  walk  in  the  country,"  answered 
Pembroke,  sententiously. 

Miles  sighed.     A  look   came   into   his  poor  face 


224  THE   BERKELEYS 

that  Pembroke  had  seen  there  before — a  look  that 
made  the  elder  brother's  strong  heart  ache.  Any 
disappointment  to  Olivia  was  a  stab  to  this  unfor 
tunate  young  soul.  Men,  as  nature  made  them, 
are  not  magnanimous  in  love.  Only  some  fright 
ful  misfortune  like  this  poor  boy's  can  make  them 
so. 

Presently  Miles  continued,  hesitatingly  : 

"  You  must  go  to  see  her  very  early  to-morrow. 
You  know  they  return  to  Virginia  early  in  the 
week." 

"  I  can't  go,"  answered  Pembroke,  wounding 
himself,  and  the  brother  that  he  loved  better  than 
himself,  in  order  to  wound  Olivia.  "  I  must  go  to 
New  York  early  to-morrow  morning,  on  business. 
I  was  notified  ten  days  ago." 

Miles  said  no  more. 

Early  the  next  morning  Pembroke  was  off,  leav 
ing  a  note  for  Olivia,  which  that  young  lady  showed 
her  father,  and  then,  running  up  to  her  own  room, 
tore  into  bits — and  then  she  burst  into  tears.  And 
yet  it  was  a  most  kind,  cordial,  friendly  note.  When 
Pembroke  returned,  the  Berkeleys  had  left  town  for 
the  season. 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  22$ 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE  quaint  old  house,  and  the  straggling,  half- 
kept  grounds  at  Isleham  were  never  lovelier  than 
that  spring.  Sometimes  the  extreme  quiet  and 
repose  had  weighed  upon  Olivia's  spirits  as  it  would 
upon  any  other  young  and  vigorous  nature.  But 
now  she  had  a  good  deal  of  a  certain  sort  of  ex 
citement.  She  was  country-bred,  and  naturally 
turned  to  the  country  for  any  home  feeling  she 
might  have.  The  Colonel  and  Petrarch  were  a 
little  bored  at  first.  Both  missed  the  social  life  at 
Washington.  Pete  had  been  a  success  in  his  own 
circle.  His  ruffled  shirt-front,  copied  from  his 
master's,  had  won  infinite  respect  among  his  own 
color.  As  for  the  natty  white  footmen  and  coach 
men,  their  opinion  and  treatment,  even  their  jeers, 
he  regarded  with  lofty  indifference,  and  classed 
them  as  among  the  poorest  of  poor  white  trash. 

His  religion,  too,  had  struck  terror  to  those  of  the 
Washington  darkies  to  whom  he  had  had  a  chance 
to  expound  it.  His  liberal  promises  of  eternal 
damnation,  "  an'  sizzlin'  an'  fryin'  in  perdition,  wid 
de  devil  bastin'  'em  wid  de  own  gravy,"  had  not 
lost  force  even  through  much  repetition.  "  Ole 
marse,"  Petrarch  informed  Olivia,  "  he  cuss  'bout 
dem  dam  towns,  an'  say  he  aint  had  nuttin'  fittin' 
ter  eat  sence  he  lef  Verginny.  Ole  marse,  he  jis' 


226  THE   BERKELEYS 

maraudin'  an'  cussin'  'cause  he  aint  got  nuttin'  ter 
do.  I  lay  he  gwi'  back  naix'  year.  Ef  he  does,  I 
got  some  preachments  ter  make  ter  dem  wuffless 
niggers  d'yar,  totin'  de  sins  'roun'  like  twuz'  gol' 
an'  silver." 

It  seemed  as  if  Olivia  were  destined  to  suffer  a 
good  deal  of  secret  mortification  on  Pembroke's  ac 
count.  That  last  neglect  of  his  had  cut  her  to  the 
soul.  She  had  waked  up  to  the  fact,  however,  that 
Pembroke  had  taken  his  first  rebuff  in  good  ear 
nest,  and  that  nothing  was  left  for  her  but  that  hoi 
low  pretense  of  friendship  which  men  and  women 
who  have  been,  or  have  desired  to  be,  more  to 
each  other,  must  affect.  It  was  rather  a  painful 
and  uncomfortable  feeling  to  take  around  with  her, 
when  listening  to  Mrs.  Peyton's  vigorous  talk,  or  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Cole's  harmless  sermons,  and  still  more 
harmless  conversation.  But.it  was  there,  and  it 
was  unconquerable,  and  she  must  simply  adjust 
the  burden  that  she  might  bear  it. 

The  county  was  full  of  talk  about  Pembroke's 
speech.  The  older  people  were  sure  that  some  in 
formation  of  his  father's  great  speeches  in  their 
court-house  about  1849  must  have  reached  Wash 
ington,  and  that  Pembroke's  future  was  predicated 
upon  them.  Then  there  was  a  good  deal  in  the 
newspapers  about  it.  The  Richmond  papers 
printed  the  speech  in  full,  together  with  a  genealog 
ical  sketch  of  his  family  since  the  first  Pembroke 
came  over,  with  a  grant  of  land  from  Charles  the 
Second  in  his  pocket.  Likewise,  Pembroke's  sue- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  22/ 

cess  was  attributed  almost  wholly  to  his  ancestry, 
and  he  himself  was  considered  to  have  had  a  merely 
nominal  share  in  it. 

It  was  the  long  session  of  Congress,  and  there 
was  no  talk  of  Pembroke's  returning  to  the  county. 
Whenever  he  did  come,  though,  it  was  determined 
to  give  him  a  public  dinner. 

One  afternoon  in  May,  about  the  same  time  of 
year  that  Pembroke  and  Olivia  had  had  their 
pointed  conversation  in  the  garden,  Olivia  was 
trimming  her  rose-bushes.  She  was  a  famous  gar 
dener,  and  a  part  of  every  morning  and  afternoon 
she  might  have  been  found  looking  after  her  shrubs 
and  flowers.  Sometimes,  with  a  small  garden  hoe, 
she  might  have  been  seen  hoeing  vigorously,  much 
to  Petrarch's  disgust,  who  remonstrated  vainly. 

"  Miss  'Livy,  yo'  mar  never  did  no  sech  a  thing. 
When  she  want  hoein'  done,  she  sen'  fur  Susan's 
Torm,  an'  Simon  Peter  an'  Unc'  Silas'  Jake.  She 
didn't  never  demean  herself  wid  no  hoe  in  her 
han'." 

"  But  I  haven't  got  Susan's  Tom,  nor  Simon 
Peter  not  Uncle  Silas'  Jake.  And  besides,  I  am 
doing  it  because  I  like  it." 

"  Fur  Gord  A'mighty's  sake,  Miss  'Livy,  doan' 
lemme  hear  dat  none  o'  de  Berkeleys  likes  fur  ter 
wuk.  De  Berkeleys  allus  wuz  de  gentlefolks  o'  de 
county.  Didn't  none  on 'em  like  ter  wuk.  Ketch  ole 
marse  wukkin  !  Gord  warn't  conjurin'  'bout  de  fust 
families  when  He  say,  '  By  de  sweat  o'  de  brow  dey 
shall  scuffle  fer  de  vittals.'  He  mos'  p'intedly  warn't 


228  THE   BERKELEYS 

studyin'  'bout  de  Berkeleys,  'kase  dey  got  dat  high 
an'  mighty  sperrit  dey  lay  down  an'  starve  'fo'  dey 
disqualify  deyselfs  by  wukkin'." 

But  Olivia  stuck  bravely  to  her  plebeian  amuse 
ment.  On  this  particular  afternoon  she  was  not 
hoeing.  She  was  merely  snipping  off  straggling 
wisps  from  the  great  rose-trees — old-fashioned 
"  maiden's  blush,"  and  damasks.  She  was  thinking, 
as,  indeed,  she  generally  did  when  she  found  her 
self  employed  in  that  way,  of  Pembroke  and  that 
unlucky  afternoon  six  years  ago. 

Before  she  knew  it  Pembroke  was  advancing  up 
the  garden  walk.  In  a  moment  they  were  shaking 
hands  with  a  great  assumption  of  friendliness. 
Olivia  could  not  but  wonder  if  he  remembered  the 
similarity  between  that  and  just  such  another 
spring  afternoon  in  the  same  place.  Pembroke 
looked  remarkably  well  and  seemed  in  high  spirits. 

"  The  Colonel  was  out  riding — and  I  did  not 
need  Pete's  directions  to  know  that  you  were  very 
likely  pottering  among  your  flowers  at  this  time." 

"  Pottering  is  such  a  senile  kind  of  a  word — you 
make  me  feel  I  am  in  my  dotage.  Doddering  is 
the  next  step  to  pottering.  And  this,  I  remember, 
is  the  first  chance  I  have  had  to  congratulate  you 
in  person  on  your  speech.  Papa  gives  your  father 
and  your  grandfather  the  whole  credit.  I  asked 
him,  however,  when  he  wrote  you  to  give  my  con 
gratulations." 

"  Which  he  did.  It  was  a  very  cold  and  clammy 
way  of  felicitating  a  friend." 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  229 

Olivia  said  nothing,  but  she  could  not  restrain  an 
almost  imperceptible  lifting  of  the  brows. 

"  The  result  of  that  speech  has  been,"  continued 
Pembroke,  after  a  little  pause,  "  that  I  am  in  public 
life  to  stay  as  long  as  I  can.  That  means  that  I 
shall  never  be  a  rich  man.  Honest  men,  in  these 
times,  don't  get  rich  on  politics." 

A  brilliant  blush  came  into  Olivia's  face  at  that. 
In  the  midst  of  suggestive  circumstances  Pembroke 
seemed  determined  to  add  suggestive  remarks. 

"  But  I  hardly  think  you  could  take  that  into 
consideration,"  she  answered,  after  a  moment.  "  A 
man's  destiny  is  generally  fixed  by  his  talents. 
You  will  probably  not  make  a  great  fortune,  but  you 
may  make  a  great  reputation — and  to  my  way  of 
thinking  the  great  reputation  is  the  more  to  be 
coveted." 

"  Did  you  always  think  so  ?" 

"  Always." 

Then  there  came  an  awkward  pause.  Olivia  was 
angry  with  him  for  asking  the  first  question,  but 
Pembroke  seemed  determined  to  pursue  it. 

"  Even  when  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  on  this 
very  spot,  six  years  ago  ?  Then  I  understood 
that  you  could  not  marry  a  poor  man." 

"  Then,"  said  Olivia,  calmly,  and  facing  him, 
"  you  very  much  misunderstood  me.  I  did  think, 
as  I  think  now,  that  poverty  is  a  weight  about  the 
neck  of  a  public  man.  But  I  can  say  truthfully, 
that  it  was  your  ability  to  cope  with  it,  rather  than 
mine,  that  I  feared." 


230  THE   BERKELEYS 

"  And  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Pembroke,  calmly, 
"  on  looking  back,  that  I  was  a  little  too  aggressive 
— that  I  put  rather  a  forced  construction  on  what 
you  said — and  that  I  was  very  angry." 

"  I  was  angry,  too — and  it  has  angered  me  every 
time  I  have  thought  of  it  in  these  six  years,  that  I 
was  made  to  appear  mercenary,  when  I  am  far  from 
it — that  a  mere  want  of  tact  and  judgment  should 
have  marked  me  in  your  esteem — or  anybody 
else's,  for  that  matter — as  a  perfectly  cold  and  cal 
culating  woman." 

She  was  certainly  very  angry  now. 

"  But  if  I  was  wrong,"  said  Pembroke,  in  a  low, 
clear  voice — for  he  used  the  resources  of  his  delight 
ful  voice  on  poor  Olivia  as  he  had  done  on  many 
men  and  some  women  before—"  I  have  paid  the 
price.  The  humiliation  and  the  pangs  of  six  years 
ago  were  much — and  then,  the  feeling  that,  after  all, 
there  was  but  one  woman  in  the  world  for  me — 
ah,  Olivia,  sometimes  I  think  you  do  not  know  how 
deep  is  the  hold  you  took  upon  me.  You  would 
have  seen  in  all  these  years,  that  however  I  might 
try,  I  could  not  forget  you." 

Olivia  was  not  implacable. 

****** 

When  they  came  in  the  house,  the  Colonel  was 
come,  and  in  a  gale  of  good  humor.  He  had,  how 
ever,  great  fault  to  find  with  Pembroke's  course. 
He  was  too  conciliatory — too  willing  to  forget  the 
blood  shed  upon  the  battlefields  of  Virginia — and 
then  and  there  they  entered  upon  a  political  discus- 


AND   THEIR   NEIGHBORS.  231 

sion  which  made  the  old-fashioned  mirrors  on  the 
drawing-room  wall  ring  again.  The  Colonel  brought 
down  his  fist  and  raved.  "  By  Jove,  sir,  this  is  in 
tolerable.  My  black  boy,  Petrarch  (Petrarch  con 
tinued  to  be  the  Colonel's  boy),  knows  more  about 
the  subject  than  you  do ;  and  he's  the  biggest  fool 
I  ever  saw.  I'll  be  hanged,  sir,  if  your  statements 
are  worth  refuting."  Pembroke  withstood  the 
sortie  gallantly,  and  at  intervals  charged  the  enemy 
in  splendid  style,  reducing  the  Colonel  to  oaths  and 
splutterings  and  despair. 

Olivia  sat  in  a  low  chair  by  the  round  mahogany 
table,  on  which  the  old-fashioned  lamp  burned  softly, 
casting  mellow  lights  and  shades  upon  her  graceful 
figure.  Occasionally  a  faint  smile  played  about  her 
eyes — whereat  Pembroke  seemed  to  gain  inspira 
tion,  and  attacked  the  Colonel's  theories  with 
renewed  vigor. 

Upon  the  Colonel's  invitation  he  remained  all 
night — the  common  mode  of  social  intercourse  in 
Virginia.  Next  morning,  the  Colonel  was  ripe  for 
argument.  Pembroke,  however,  to  his  immense 
disgust,  refused  to  enter  the  lists  and  spent  the 
morning  dawdling  with  Olivia  in  the  garden. 
About  noon,  the  Colonel,  in  a  rage  sent  Petrarch 
after  the  renegades.  Three  times  did  he  return 
without  them.  The  fourth  time  Petrarch's  patience 
was  exhausted. 

"  Marse  French,  fur  de  Lord's  sake  come  ter  ole 
marse.  He  done  got  de  sugar  in  de  glasses,  an'  de 
ice  cracked  up,  an'  he  fyarly  stan'nin'  on  he  hade. 


232  THE    BERKELEYS. 

He  got  out  all  dem  ole  yaller  Richmun  Exameters, 
printed  fo'  de  wah,  an'  he  say  he  gwi'  bust  yo' 
argifyins'  all  ter  pieces.  He  mighty  obstroporous, 
an'  you  better  come  along." 

To  this  pathetic  appeal  Pembroke  at  last  re 
sponded.  Olivia,  with  downcast  face,  walked  by 
his  side.  The  Colonel  was  very  much  worked  up 
and  "  mighty  discontemptuous,"  as  Petrarch  ex 
pressed  it. 

"  This  is  the  third  time,  sir — "  he  began  to  roar. 

"  Never  mind,  Colonel,"  replied  Pembroke, 
laughing.  "  We  will  have  a  plenty  of  time  to  quar 
rel.  Olivia  has  promised  to  marry  me  in  the  sum 
mer." 

"  By  Gad,  sir — 

"  Have  a  cigar.  Now,  where  did  we  leave  off  last 
night?  Oh,  the  Virginia  Resolutions  of  1/98." 


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By  JOEL  CHANDLER  HARRIS,  au 
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23  Illustrations  by  E.  W.  KEM- 
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lines  and  see  the  autobiography  of  the 
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*U     T 1      Ml  — 1-  Tl t   /"V---1 1     ^1 D'     J_    »      t    t\\3      T  _    /-•  . I    .1- _    «T»!_    "l       ' 1 


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education  to  both  of  her  admirers." — London  Athenceum. 

"  '  The  Faith  Doctor  '  is  worth  reading  for  its  style,  its  wit,  and  its  humor,  and  not 
less,  we  may  add,  for  its  pathos."— .Z-ow^/i  Spectator. 

"  Much  skill  is  shown  by  the  author  in  making  these  '  fads '  the  basis  of  a  novel  of 
great  interest.  .  .  .  One  who  tries  to  keep  in  the  current  of  good  novel-reading  must 
certainly  find  time  to  read  'The  Faith  Doctor.'  " — Buffalo  Commercial. 


A 


N  UTTER  FAILURE.     By  MIRIAM  COLES  HAR 
RIS,  author  of"  Rutledge."     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  A  story  with  an  elaborate  plot,  worked  out  with  great  cleverness  and  with  the 
skill  of  an  experienced  artist  in  fiction.  The  interest  is  strong  and  at  times  very  dra 
matic.  .  .  .  Those  who  were  attracted  by  '  Rutledge  '  will  give  hearty  welcome  to  this 
story,  and  find  it  fully  as  enjoyable  as  that  once  immensely  popular  novel." — Boston 
Saturday  Evening  Gazette. 

"  In  this  new  story  the  author  has  done  some  of  the  best  work  that  she  has  ever 
given  to  the  public,  and  it  will  easily  class  among  the  most  meritorious  and  most 
original  novels  of  the  year." — Boston  Home  Journal. 

"  The  author  of  '  Rutledge  '  does  not  often  send  out  a  new  volume,  but  when  she 
does  it  is  always  a  literary  event.  .  .  .  Her  previous  books  were  sketchy  and  slight 
when  compared  with  the  finished  and  trained  power  evidenced  in  'An  Utter  Failure.'" 
• — New  I  far  en  Palladium. 


A 


PURITAN  PAGAN.      By   JULIEN   GORDON,   au 
thor  of  "A  Diplomat's  Diary,"  etc.     I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  Cruger  grows  stronger  as  she  writes.  .  .  .  The  lines  in  her 
story  are  boldly  and  vigorously  etched." — New  York  Times. 

"The  author's  recent  books  have  made  for  her  a  secure  place  in  current  literature, 
where  she  can  stand  fast.  .  .  .  Her  latest  production,  '  A  Puritan  Pagan,'  is  an  eminent 
ly  clever  story,  ir  the  best  sense  of  the  word  clever." — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"  It  is  obvious  that  the  author  is  thoroughly  at  home  in  illustrating  the  manner  and 
the  sentiment  of  the  best  society  of  both  America  and  Europe." — Chicago  Times. 


E 


LINE  VERE.  By  Louis  COUPERUS.  Translated 
from  the  Dutch  by  J.  T.  GREIN.  With  an  Introduction  by 
EDMUND  GOSSE.  Holland  Fiction  Series.  I2mo.  Cloth,  $1.00. 

"  Most  careful  in  its  details  of  description,  most  picturesque  in  its  coloring." — Boston 
Post. 

"  A  vivacious  and  skillful  performance,  giving  an  evidently  faithful  picture  of  society, 
and  evincing  the  art  of  a  true  story-teller." — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"The  ddnoument  is  tragical,  thrilling,  and  picturesque." — New  York  World. 

New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,   I,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

<^TRAIGHT  ON.     A  story  of  a  boy's  school-life  in 

*-)       France.     By  the   author    of  "  The  Story  of  Colette."     With 

86   Illustrations   by  Edouard  Zier.  320   pages.      8vo.     Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  It  is  long  since  we  have  encountered  a  story  for  children  which  we  can  recom 
mend  more  cordially.  It  is  good  all  through  and  in  every  respect." — Charleston 
Nevus  and  Courier. 

"  A  healthful  tale  of  a  French  school-boy  who  suffers  the  usual  school-boy  persecu 
tion,  and  emerges  from  his  troubles  a  hero.  The  illustrations  are  bright  and  well 
drawn,  and  the  translation  is  excellently  done." — Boston  Commercial  Bulletin. 

"  A  real  story-book  of  the  sort  which  is  difficult  to  lay  down,  having  once  begun  it. 
It  is  fully  illustrated  and  handsomely  bound." — Buffalo  Courier. 

"  The  story  is  one  of  exceptional  merit,  and  its  delightful  interest  never  flags." — 
Chicago  Herald. 


T 


ILLUSTRATED  EDITION  OF  "COLETTE." 

STORY  OF  COLETTE,  a  new,  large-paper 
edition.     With  36  Illustrations.     8vo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  great  popularity  which  this  book  has  attained  in  its  smaller  form  has 
led  the  publishers  to  issue  an  illustrated  edition,  with  thirty-six  original 
drawings  by  Jean  Claude,  both  vignette  and  full-page. 

"This  is  a  capital  translation  of  a  charming  novel.  It  is  bright,  witty,  fresh,  and 
humorous.  '  The  Story  of  Colette  '  is  a  fine  example  of  what  a  French  novel  can  be, 
and  all  should  be." — Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

"  Colette  is  French  and  the  story  is  French,  and  both  are  exceedingly  pretty.  The 
story  is  as  pure  and  refreshingas  the  innocent  yet  sighing  gayety  of  Colette's  life." — 
Providence  Journal. 

"  A  charming  little  story,  molded  on  the  simplest  lines,  thoroughly  pure,  and  ad 
mirably  constructed.  It  is  told  with  a  wonderful  lightness  and  raciness.  It  is  full  of 
little  skillful  touches,  such  as  French  literary  art  at  its  best  knows  so  well  how  to  pro 
duce.  It  is  characterized  by  a  knowledge  of  human  nature  and  a  mastery  of  style  and 
method  which  indicate  that  it  is  the  work  rather  of  a  master  than  of  a  novice.  .  .  .  Who 
ever  the  author  of  'Colette  '  may  be,  there  can  be  no  question  that  it  is  one  of  the  pret 
tiest,  most  artistic,  and  in  every  way  charming  stories  that  French  fiction  has  been 
honored  with  for  a  long  time." — New  York  Tribune. 


H 


ERMINE'S  TRIUMPHS.  A  Story  for  Girls  and 
Boys.  By  MADAME  COLOMB.  With  100  Illustrations.  8vo. 
Cloth. 

The  popularity  of  this  charming  story  of  French  home  life,  which  has 
passed  through  many  editions  in  Paris,  has  been  earned  by  the  sustained  in 
terest  of  the  narrative,  the  sympathetic  presentation  of  character,  and  the 
wholesomeness  of  the  lessons  which  are  suggested.  One  of  the  most  de 
lightful  books  for  girls  published  in  recent  years.  It  is  bound  uniformly 
with  "Straight  On." 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,   i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REG^NAL  L.BRARV ' 

405  Hllaard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  C 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 
from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


000  031  839     4 


